


The Scientist

by uncreativerabbit



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, M/M, Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreativerabbit/pseuds/uncreativerabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1994 and Carlos is nineteen. A promising young scientist in NYC, he is developing a cure for one of the world's most dangerous diseases after suffering a personal loss at its hands. However, when a scheming boss and his bodyguard test it on humans with disastrous effects, they leave him to pick up the pieces as a criminal and a disowned man.</p><p>Twenty years on, he is left with no choice but to flee to the only town left where he thinks he is not known, Night Vale. Homeless and living out of a car, a young radio host takes pity on him, but their lives are more intertwined than they first thought. When he is warned off by a curious little old lady, he is left to discover the secret of Night Vale and the host's past.</p><p>More tags may be added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. I'm aiming to get this updated every three weeks to a month, I'm sorry in advance if I'm late on anything. If you like my writing, please check out my writing blog. It's pretty empty at the moment but I'm working on more fanfiction and original pieces. Reviews and typo-spotting is much appreciated since this hasn't been beta'd. Hoping you all have a lovely day!
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> paperbackbunny.tumblr.com

His heartbeat was a-flutter as he steadily dropped the solution into a test tube using a pipette. Carlos had been awake for almost twenty-six hours, the bright white light of the laboratory glaring into his eyes once he raised his head from the stationary position he had been in for what seemed like the majority of those hours. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes but once he remembered what he was doing, stopped his hand in mid-air. From the tips of his fingers up until the middle of his forearm he was wearing a pair of gaudy purple gloves to protect his hands from the corrosive chemicals he had been handling. The door opened and Carlos watched as two men walked in before quickly going back to his work as, expected in a laboratory, the solution could have potentially been toxic.

The year was 1994 and Carlos was nineteen. The two men that had entered the room had been responsible for drafting him through university at sixteen to finish with a biomedical engineering degree that was completely paid for, on the basis that he join a specific company. His true passion was just pure, cold science; exploring the field and gathering data on natural phenomena, with a little bit of astronomy and physics thrown in but as he was offered this opportunity, the sparkle in his mother’s eye was too hard to refuse. He bit down his dream and followed the men into the company, bittersweet.

He had been in the company six months to the exact day specified and to his surprise he adored his work. It was dangerous and could be fatal, as he found out only on his second day in the company. One of his seniors, a woman named Emily had accidentally inhaled one of the deadliest biological substances known to humankind. It was a deadly nerve agent and killed her in fifteen minutes. Carlos had overheard rumours that it wasn’t just a tragic accident and her equipment had in fact, been tampered with. Others mourned the loss of the girl, barely twenty-four, fairy-like in her features. She was a fair-skinned and petite young woman with dainty hands and tiny feet. Her blonde hair was cut into a pixie crop and her voice seemed to bless the laboratories with the sound of music. Carlos, although only knowing her two days could notice the difference in the halls. Her boyfriend apparently committed suicide.

The second case was three months ago and was actually something that happened regularly to the laboratory. Animal testing was commonplace as there were requirements and laws and simple concoctions could not merely be tested on humans even if they were volunteers. Carlos understood why it was necessary and could see the benefits. They were developing life-saving and life-changing medicines that could potentially be used for both animals and humans. However those who didn’t understand were the various animal rights groups that had risen in the US in the past few years. New York, where the laboratory was based seemed to be the land of the various groups. A freshly-graduated secretary fell victim to a ricin letter. He was only twenty.

The next time Carlos glanced up the two men who were the reason he was here were right in front of his desk. He got a bit of a fright and was thankful that he had put down his test tubes as they both glared at him with piercing eyes. The first man’s stare could easily be ignored as the glare from the bright, white laboratory lights obscured his eyes from view, but the man’s bodyguard, the second human next to him was truly petrifying.

The first man was named R. Fitzgerald. There was speculation on what his first name was with the most popular theory settling at ‘Ronald,’ shortly followed by ‘Reginald.’ He was in his late fifties with a grey and silver explosion of hair atop his oval head, with some shiny bald patches exposed. He was shorter than Carlos and broke standard lab protocol by wearing a dirty lab coat and a pair of tatty red plaid slippers. He chose never to wear goggles although he didn’t need to, with a pair of rimless circle glasses almost as thick as a dictionary.

The second man was simply known as Dylan. He was dark-skinned, slightly darker than Carlos and a lot taller. Broad-shouldered and stern faced, he caused an involuntary reaction of stiffening to anyone he passed, including Carlos. He was dressed in an impeccable tailored suit with a silk purple tie and polished dress shoes. His black hair had a generous amount of gel pushed into it, and if he wasn’t such an intimidating person, Carlos would be in love. For now, it was only a physical, dark attraction.

“How is the cure going?” Fitzgerald asked, a slightly neurotic edge to his high-pitched voice. He purely cut to the chase as he merely saw Carlos as a worker, his experiments and discoveries marked with Fitzgerald’s name.

The cure in question was for a disease Carlos felt strongly about and had recently been thrust into the public eye at the end of 1991. The developed human immunodeficiency virus was one of the worst viruses known to man with its mutating strain being impossible to immunise against. Like the defiant common cold, the strain mutated quicker than a vaccine could be produced, rendering it outdated and useless. Carlos’ elder brother had died of AIDS in his thirties as his family could not afford the medication to prolong his life. In the end, it was a common cold that ended his life, one that Carlos had two weeks before and he had spent months convinced he had killed his brother.

Carlos believed that the best solution if immunisation was impossible was to nip it in the bud, that is, before it developed into AIDS. Until they could find out how to stop the fast mutation of the virus, they could focus on detecting and curing the HIV strain as soon as possible. As he was caught up in his thoughts, Dylan’s eyes glared at him as he remained silent and Carlos began to consider his words carefully.

“I-It’s going completely fine! I feel that we are able to move on to testing now on the rats now. We are in the final stages, it’s dreadfully exciting!” Carlos exclaimed excitedly as he rushed to collect his clipboard full of his results and the ingredients of the concoctions in front of him. Fitzgerald ushered to Dylan to collect the clipboard without even bothering to acknowledge it or Carlos and strode off, barking orders as he left.

“Make sure that is properly stored and you can be dismissed for the evening. I believe Minnie’s mixers is offering a deal on cocktails and shots and they’re pretty liberal about identification. I’m sure you’ll get in, you deserve a day off tomorrow and you are welcome to take one.” He said, dimming the laboratory lights, hiding his twisted smile.

Carlos nodded furiously and picked up the rack of test tubes to lock them away in one of the cabinets. These weren’t just normal cabinets, however, they were maintained at the correct temperature for the solutions and were completely leak-proof, along with layers and layers of security. Dylan came over and stood behind Carlos as he locked up and cast off his goggles and gloves. He gave Carlos a wry smile as Carlos shuffled away quickly, not wanting to cross the feared Dylan.

As Carlos left, the door closed, leaving the manipulating scientist and his scornful bodyguard in the dark.

“You got the passcode, I trust?”

“Yes.”

“Move straight on to human testing. That little rat can take the jail time if it goes wrong.”

Carlos leant against the door for support as the full day had left him exhausted. He wanted nothing more to sleep, he could faintly hear talking in the laboratory but could not pick apart the words, merely hearing a long string of sound. He could finally press his arm against his forehead and as he slumped there, he weighed up his options for the evening.

The first option was to go home, go to bed and have a mundane day off. Mainly sleeping, a little bit of eating and a lot of studying. The verdict passed by Carlos was that it was a necessary but boring day. The second option was to go to Minnie’s mixers, drink a lot, probably have a one-night stand and wake up with a hangover the next day, hopefully convincing whatever guy that he brought home to stay with him for a lazy day with more sex. Unnecessary but needed. It won out against option one.

Carlos was a minor in university so no student would go near him, no matter how much he tried. It wasn’t until he worked at the laboratory that he lost his virginity to his ‘ex-boyfriend,’ his senior scientist and mentor. To Carlos, he was the bee’s knees, the best thing since sliced bread and he was head over heels from him. To the senior scientist, he was only a cute little toy to use and sleep with whenever he pleased. Carlos always wanted to count him, but wasn’t sure if he accurately could.

He continued walking to the staff room and into the showers, quickly washing himself and changing into what hung in his locker, a navy scientific t-shirt with ‘Oxygen Potassium (OK)’ on the front of it, a red plaid shirt and black jeans. He left his hair wet and tousled since it was the least of his priorities, yet, he was always complimented on it. He hadn’t a clue why. He tossed on his simple black jacket as it was October, after all, and collected his belongings.

As he walked outside the crisp autumn wind tickled his hair and a rather small dinosaur scurried past him. A pink fairy followed suit, bellowing something about the dinosaur being a little thief. Carlos pulled out his phone and looked down at the time and date. 7.10 pm on the 31st of October. Halloween. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he walked to the bar, and then the thought dawned upon him. Everyone in the bar was going to be in costume.

“Oh well, I suppose I could pull off the ’35-and-still-single’ look.” Carlos mumbled to himself, because that was how old he actually felt. He awkwardly joined the line of Halloween costumes and slotted himself in with a mixed gender group, the majority of them looking older than 21. A woman tutted and two men laughed at him but allowed him to mix in with the group. The bouncer at the door, a small, weak and uncaring man let everyone in without even checking any sort of identification, only moving the rope once in a while to make it seem like he was actually doing his work.

Once Carlos was in, he ordered a double vodka and Coke and sat down in the lounge, on a what-he-assumed-was-black-but-he-couldn’t-quite-tell leather sofa. He was stiff at first but as he poured the drink down his throat, he relaxed into the sofa. Carlos did what he was used to, he observed the surroundings. A dark rainbow of costumes shone underneath the bright, strobe lights. Vampires, demons, fallen angels, a dominatrix or two and the odd ‘sexy’ fireman.

He’d become a regular at these kind of places since working at the laboratory and the virginity incident. He desired a relationship, sometimes painfully so (more painfully than he’d confess to anyone, not that he’d have anyone to confess to) but the odds were stacked up so strongly against him. He was awkward with his words and struggled to communicate because everything was factual and emotions were mostly irrelevant. It wasn’t if he didn’t feel emotions himself because of course he did and it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand them but he often didn’t understand conflicting emotions tied up in a problem.

As he thought about this, he heard two girls gossiping about their daily lives. He looked over at them. The first girl was modestly dressed in a black and white suit that hugged her curves well. Her hair, tightly curled, was fixed into an up-do. The second woman and the one who gossiped loudly was also dressed in suit-attire although a bit more risqué. She had rabbit ears in her hair and brick red lipstick on.

“I honestly don’t know what to do about my girlfriend. I love her but she has hurt me more times than enough. We argue every day and she comes home drunk and she’s cheated on me before. She wants her wonderful career and her life while I sit at home constantly and play the pretty little housewife! I cannot bear the relationship but I love her.” She confessed to her friend.

That was one of the scenarios that Carlos didn’t understand. It was obvious to him that she should just end it with her girlfriend and then begin to court the friend that sat opposite her because it was quite plainly obvious that at least the woman in the more ‘traditional’ suit absolutely fancied her. From the twinkle in her eyes as she listened to the shy touching of feet and arms. She was toying with her hair something chronic, pulling curls out of her up-do and twisting them around her fingers, probably thinking and wishing for the same thing that Carlos was thinking.

Carlos took another mouthful of his drink and watched the club still continue to fill with people in various stages of undress. He wished he was daring enough to pull off the ‘shirtless police officer’ or even the classy suits. He thought about if he had come to the club in his lab coat and wondered if he would have had more success that way. More people continued to file into the club.

It wasn’t until a man dressed in a familiar suit calmly walked over to the sofa that Carlos sat alone on and climbed next to him. Carlos looked up to find Dylan perched next to him with a smile painted on his face, it seemed forced, sinister, but he couldn’t say no to him. Carlos stuttered for a bit, not knowing what to do or what to say in the face of Dylan, so opted to down his drink instead. This however didn’t have a good effect, the vodka hitting the back of his throat caused a bout of spluttering. Dylan’s smile turned a touch more genuine as he knocked Carlos on the back a little too hard to stop it.

“Well done for your work today Carlos. Would you like me to buy you another drink?” Dylan asked, standing up and fiddling through his pockets for his wallet.

Carlos nodded and smiled, Dylan returned it and walked over to the bar to order his drinks. Carlos was stunned, utterly and truly. He had always found Dylan attractive but was wholly intimidated by him. He didn’t think there was another dimension in his personality other than the cold-staring enforcing bodyguard that he was and even if there was, he didn’t expect him to show it to him of all people. He knocked around the ice in his glass, lifting it up and gazing at it intently. Dylan was walking over as he did this and he placed a drink down in front of Carlos. He was confused as he didn’t even ask Carlos what he wanted but as Carlos took a sip, he realised it was another vodka and Coke. Dylan had opted for a red wine.

Dylan sat back down next to him and gazed at Carlos intently, his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Carlos originally stiffened as he did this, unsure of his intentions, but gradually softened as the conversation began to flow. Obviously controlled by Dylan, he quizzed Carlos on pretty much every aspect about him and Carlos obediently answered. Within an hour, Dylan knew about Carlos’ family, his dreams, his childhood hopes and his ambition in the laboratory. Within the hour, Carlos knew that Dylan lived in a small studio apartment on his own with a house-trained tabby cat named Tabitha.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with you and Anthony a few months ago? You know, that scientist you were under when you first entered the company? There were a few rumours going around but I’d rather know from a first-hand source because I know it’d be correct and to be honest, I don’t think the rumours are true. Are you interested in men?” Dylan asked, out of the blue, his eyes seemingly curious. Carlos originally wanted to avoid the subject but Dylan looked so relaxed to him, so carefree, so genuine and so nice, so Carlos couldn’t help but answer the man. He had also been plying him with alcohol all evening, so Carlos was well on his way to wasted.

“Well, we got to know each other over the experiments and fetching coffee and other things together, since I was attached to him in the laboratory and after a while the conversation naturally turned to other things that wasn’t work, basically. We began to get to know each other more and I fell for him so he used me as a quick fuck that was all. I was heartbroken, obviously and I guess maybe that’s what triggered the rumours. And yes, I am interested in men,” an intoxicated Carlos confessed to Dylan who was still playing with his first glass of wine.

Dylan leaned over and put his hand on top of Carlos’. He was incredibly close and Carlos could smell both the wine on his breath with a faint hint of mint and the cologne he was wearing. It was musky and dangerous, just like Dylan himself. He brushed his lips against Carlos’ and pulled away, holding eye contact with him. It was dark in the club apart from the bright lights of the dance floor which seemed so far away. The smoke machine had gone off a few times too, making vision just that little bit harder. However, Carlos could see the intensity of the look and flinched, but Dylan continued, leaning over to press his lips against Carlos’ ear. He whispered, gently.

“Are you interested in me?”

Carlos swallowed hard and Dylan leaned in, pressing his lips against Carlos for a more intense kiss. He pushed Carlos’ lips open with his tongue and slowly explored his mouth, playing around with Carlos’ frozen tongue and scraping his across Carlos’ teeth. His hand went to Carlos’ curls and once Carlos had processed the situation his hands grabbed Dylan’s shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him just as passionately as the bodyguard was a moment earlier. Dylan dipped Carlos back as he continued to make out with him and they only pulled away for air for only a brief second before launching straight back into another session.

Of course the need for air beckoned again and as they pulled apart, Carlos whined in desperation. Dylan smiled, shushed him quietly and began to kiss down his cheek, across his jawline and down his neck. Carlos’ whine turned into a louder-than-expected moan and this drew attention to them. Other partygoers cheered and made lewd sounds at the two men who were now half laid out on the sofas and one of them was obviously aroused.

Both men took different approaches to the attention, Carlos blushed furiously and Dylan laughed, hiding Carlos’ face into his chest. He leant down to his ear and brushed the stray tuff of hair out of the way. His breath tickled Carlos’ neck and he put his shoulder up to try and protect him, safe and tight in Dylan’s arms.

“Would you like to see my apartment?” Dylan asked. Carlos nodded and they both stood up to leave.

"Ah, wait, Dylan, I’m going to use the bathroom first." Carlos mumbled and Dylan sighed, sitting back down on the sofa.

"Hurry up."

Carlos steadied his beating heart and walked into the bathroom, past the drug-taking and the stall where either a marriage proposal or a blowjob was taking place and glanced into the next one. Discovering it was blocked with a high density of human waste, Carlos moved on, finding many of the other toilets in the same condition. It was only until he reached the last one did he find an all right toilet to use. He sat down and fiddled with his phone to let his family know that he was staying out for the night. Almost instantly, his phone lit up with a response.

'Make sure to get some sleep.'

He could understand his mother’s worry, often he’d stay at the lab and not even bother to make contact, but he knew that she knew that he was going to be with someone else. It was the only time he ever text her. He finished in the toilet, washed his hands and greeted Dylan outside. He stood up and the both of them walked wordlessly to his car, although Dylan’s arm slid itself around Carlos’ waist as they walked out and pulled him so much closer.

Being a bodyguard must pay well, Carlos thought as he looked at the car. It was a large car, a shiny black colour and had a sleek exterior. Inside the car it was simple but comfortable, with leather seats and a decent amount of leg room. Anything metal was impeccably shiny and pristine, just like how Dylan presented himself.

They drove back to his in silence, with Dylan not even casting one look at Carlos. His hard-on had gone and instead he felt a strong chill and he wasn’t fully convinced it came from the cold night outside. He glanced up at Dylan once they had reached a red light and managed a faint, nervous smile. Dylan leant over as Carlos watched the cars from the next junction go and kissed him on the cheek.

"I can’t wait to have you." Dylan whispered in his ear seductively but also darkly.

Like that, Carlos also desired him too again and quickly put his feet up to obscure his groin. He then quickly realised this wasn’t the car of someone he knew too well and the leather upholstery would probably be upset by his lack of manners so he put his feet down. He almost swore he saw Dylan’s mouth twitch into a temporary smile.

Carlos didn’t know why he found Dylan so attractive. He hadn’t even known the guy properly until about twenty minutes ago and even then he seemed so cold, but the fact he wanted him, at least sexually was so intoxicating to Carlos. As the thought of the word ‘intoxicating’ crossed his mind, a sobering thought crossed it next. Carlos was drunk, incredibly so. He thought about his toilet experience and the fact that he could only urinate sitting down and counted that as plenty of evidence that he had consumed too much alcohol. This was why he wanted Dylan, he kept telling himself.

The next ten minutes was painfully silent as Dylan focused on the road and Carlos focused on killing his growing hard-on and the hotness that was starting to flame in his cheeks. He didn’t even pay attention to the surrounding environment nor the route, which could potentially cause disaster for him on the slim-chance that Dylan was an axe-murderer or serial cannibal (he doubted it though). It was just a blur of traffic, blobs of human matter and lights. They eventually pulled into the car park of the apartment block and stepped out of the car.

Carlos was immediately thrown against the door and kissed passionately, it felt as if he was being kissed within an inch of his life. He fought to kiss Dylan back but was overwhelmed by the dominance he was radiating. Dylan practically swept him off his feet as he leant him back to deepen (Carlos didn’t even think this was possible) their make-out session. They split only to walk over to the lift, and once the both of them were in and the correct button was pressed, they were at it again but this time Dylan had decided to grind against Carlos, extracting a moan from the flustered scientist.

The lift doors flew open and the both of them re-arranged themselves and walked out, so close they were almost touching. Dylan quickly found his keys and pushed them into his apartment’s lock and before they could even walk in, let alone continue with ripping each other’s clothes off, a rather irritated tabby cat sat upon the slight step leading into the hall watching the both of them. Carlos assumed this was Tabitha and leant down to put his hand out.

Tabitha watched this movement and slowly padded forward towards the outstretched hand. She looked at it, sniffed it, and to Carlos’ surprise, nuzzled it with her head. She walked closer to him and he kneeled down, bringing his arms closer to him. Surprising him again, she curled up in his lap and was purring as he continued to pet her, stroking the full-length of her body. In this time, Carlos hasn’t realised, but Dylan had stepped past them, taken his shoes off, put the heating on and dished up Tabitha’s cat food dinner for the evening. He stood in the door frame watching them, mildly amused.

The cat bared her stomach to Carlos and as he eagerly leant down to stroke it, she quickly scratched his hand and scampered away behind Dylan. He picked up the naughty cat as Carlos cradled his hand and watched the blood bubble up to the surface. Dylan took Tabitha into the kitchen to show her the food, scolding her pleasantly and lightly swinging her on the way.

“Now, now, Tabitha, no scratching my date please. I need him in one piece.” Dylan playfully chided the unamused cat who was now desperately trying to jump out of his arms to her food. He let her go and picked up the first aid kit, finding a bemused Carlos still sitting on the step attempting to patch up the scratch. He sat down next to him and the pair exchanged a loving smile as he started to tend to Carlos’ scratch. He wrapped it up in a plaster and cleaned up around the edges.

“I thought your lovely demeanour and gentle ways might have cracked her but seemingly not. I am very sorry.” Dylan seemed sincere and in Carlos’ mind, he nor the cat needed forgiveness. Dylan lifted Carlos’ hand up and kissed it and Carlos saw this as an opportunity to regain a slight bit of dominance. He leant over quickly and kissed Dylan, pushing his tongue up against his lips. However, Dylan was a quick thinker and he lifted his knee to brush Carlos’ groin. He retracted with a moan as Dylan swiftly rose to put away the kit.

“The bedroom’s on the second door to the right. Wait for me, I want to hear more of that” were the last words Dylan spoke before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Carlos sat there on his knees for a few seconds, he was confused, he was curious but most of all he felt deprived. He stumbled into the bedroom, the effects of the alcohol beginning to kick in even more and he sat on Dylan’s bed. The room was in darkness but he could make out a wardrobe spanning one wall of the room, a tidy space, a small bed with a green bedspread, a bedside table and a small animal bed. His lower parts burned with desire and Carlos couldn’t help himself. He got fully onto the bed, turned away from the door and slowly pushed his hand into his underwear, accidentally undoing the loose jean button in the process. 

Carlos had only begun fiddling with the head of his penis, pushing against the tip before he felt a large pair of arms drape over him. He flinched and retracted his hands from his pants as a dark chuckle was breathed in his ear. He was sure he had his ears open and was alert for sound, how did Dylan sneak up on him? Carlos couldn’t help but wonder this in his own mind as he felt Dylan’s hands slip down to his arms and he was moved so that the both of them were facing each other on the bed. Dylan slid closer to him and began to kiss up and down his neck, moving Carlos’ hand back into his jeans.

“Don’t stop, it’s pretty hot.” Dylan mumbled against his neck as he continued to trail kisses down. Carlos, giving up the pitiful dominance inside him, submitted, and did as he was told. It surprised him how amazing he felt since he was only doing it with his own hand but as he felt Dylan kiss along his collarbone and begin to push back his awfully cheesy t-shirt, he could understand why. A man who had only been his own fantasy was doing all kinds of things to him and it was driving him insane. Sure, he could admit it, he’d whacked it to the thought of Dylan shagging him, but that was all he was, a masturbation fantasy. He didn’t think the fantasy becoming true was even obtainable, let alone shared.

His shirt was being tugged over his head and he reached out to remove Dylan’s jacket. He fumbled with Dylan’s shirt buttons but he was promptly pushed away to get the shirt over his head. Once his was shirtless, Dylan quickly removed his and wrapped his arms around Carlos, pushing him back onto the bed. Once they were both lying down, Dylan pressed his lips sloppily against Carlos’ and they began to kiss again, self-restraint fully dissolving as it descended into an un-coordinated mess of tongues knocking against each other.

Dylan pushed down against Carlos, grinding his hips into him. Dylan, even as composed as he usually was, completely unexpected the friction between the both of them and gasped, letting his head fall down. Carlos was completely undone, the head of his member poking out of his jeans. Dylan pulled them and his underwear off in one move and moved his head down to Carlos’ erection. He took the entire length into his mouth swiftly and began to bob his head up and down, deep-throating it. He held the base with one hand and paid extra attention to the leaking head, swirling his tongue around the tip.

Carlos was almost undone now, moaning, thrashing about at the sensation. He shoved his fist into his mouth and bit down almost ferociously, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the noises that he was making. Dylan abruptly stopped and sat up to take the fist out of Carlos’ mouth. His eyes had a possessive, almost angry look about them. He continued to pump Carlos’ penis with his spare hand dropping to his own, mimicking the actions. Dylan stopped once he saw Carlos’ eyes screw up, judging that he was close to orgasm.

“Now now, we’ll have none of that.” Dylan scolded, before bending down to Carlos’ ear and his voice melting into a whisper.

“I want to hear everything. On your knees, please.”

Carlos snapped out of his lust-induced hazed and looked blankly at Dylan. He rolled his eyes and leant over Carlos – still on his back – to the first draw of the bedside cabinet. He pulled out his supplies, a small bottle of lubrication and a condom. He squirted some of the lube onto his fingers and pushed one into Carlos, who moaned and tensed up straight away.

“Ssh, relax, relax. I promise I won’t hurt you. Try not to come, okay?” Dylan spoke with a grin. Carlos nodded furiously.

Gradually Carlos got used to the sensation and this allowed for more fingers to be pushed into him. A second and then shortly after, a third was added and Dylan was twisting them around, stretching him and preparing him. One finger brushed against Carlos’ prostate and he jolted and bit his lip, worrying about the fast approaching feeling. He didn’t want to break what he had promised to Dylan and batted away at his fingers, moving away from him.

“Please, just go in already, I can’t hold on much longer and I wouldn’t want to break our agreement.” Carlos pleaded, almost begging Dylan. Dylan flashed a lopsided grin and put his hands into his pants, not bothering to take them off. He pulled himself out of his underwear and rolled the condom on. Dylan took a breath, Carlos closed his eyes to prepare himself as he slowly pushed in. The both of them simultaneously let out a moan at the sensation.

Dylan was slow at first, but he knew that his date wasn’t going to hold out for long. It only took around thirty seconds of thrusting and he was pumping in and out at a relentless speed, slamming into Carlos’ prostate each time. Carlos’ mind was blank and almost completely clouded with lust. He knew at the back of his mind that this was a disaster, this was wrong but he couldn’t resist. All in all, it was a pleasant surprise to find out that Dylan was in fact, as well-hung as he had dreamed about. 

The heat was beginning to collect in his groin and by the sound of Dylan, his grunts turning into the beginnings of vocalised moans and the occasional name drop from his lips along with the usual expletives of ‘oh fuck,’ and ‘shit, Carlos!’ meant that he was close. This warning was only brief though and an unexpected climax crashed over him. He thrashed about, yelling Dylan’s name and arching his back off the bed. His breathing was now borderline erratic as Dylan still continued to thrust through the orgasm.

Dylan was next, unable to bear the heat and the tightening, although he was a little less dramatic than his whimpering partner (for the night), burying his head into Carlos’ shoulder as he shuddered through. He only let out a small groan and there was no mention of Carlos’ name which, as much as he was in a post-coital bliss, it still bit at Carlos a little.

He pulled out, tied up the condom and threw it in the bin in front of the bedside cabinet. Dylan pulled off his trousers, leaving just his underwear on as Carlos was wiping himself down with one of the tissues on the side. He frantically pulled on his underwear, suddenly feeling very exposed against the cold, winter air and the man who was lying beside him.

Dylan lifted up the blanket and wrapped them both in it. He threw an arm around Carlos and nuzzled his shoulder lovingly, getting comfortable as Carlos noticed his eyelids droop with something that could have only been sleep.

“Oh, um, I should go now…” Carlos trailed off. He didn’t really want to go, per se, but he felt a stranger in this house and didn’t want to outstay his welcome. Sure, he had probably just had one of the best shags in the last couple of years and was hoping to repeat this night in the morning if he could stay over but there was an unsettling sensation in the air. Was he merely overthinking it or just feeling embarrassed, however? Dylan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Nonsense, I’m comfortable, you’re comfortable and I would like you to stay the night. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, please. I’ll cook you breakfast and we can watch television or something and even repeat tonight. Probably even better since we’ll have the alcohol out of our system. Now, sleep tight.” Dylan mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. It had overtaken his body as soon as he spat out the last word.

“Night.” Carlos replied and stole a kiss from Dylan before moving down to get under the covers. The both of them remained wrapped up in each other’s arms for the majority of the night.

Tabitha inched her way in through the open door and curled up on her little bed too, slightly annoyed that Carlos had taken her human away from her but most likely very pleased with the damage she had inflicted. She scratched behind her ear, yawned, sniffed, sneezed and fell asleep shortly after her owner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Carlos wakes up in the orange afterglow of his one night stand, he expects a lazy day consisting of awful television and sex. He gets sex and awful television, but not quite in the way that he would like it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Emetophobia at the end of the chapter (the last line). Just in case anyone can't read anything about vomiting.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading. You can find more writing at paperbackbunny.tumblr.com  
> Not much is on there at the moment but I'm working on some original stuff to put up, and I'll also be posting this fic on there along with others.

“…-with me now.”

Carlos’ eyes flickered open and he glanced around the room with his mind still thick with sleep. The warm autumn sun came through the blinds and lit up the room with a dull orange glow. It was either sunrise or sunset, Carlos did not know but nor did he care in all complete honesty. He didn’t dare lay up as he heard Dylan on the phone and didn’t want to disturb what sounded like a personal phone call. He closed his eyes again and rolled over, snatching the duvet covering the man he had shared a bed with the previous night.

“I didn’t expect it to have effects that fast.” Dylan mumbled in a hushed voice. Carlos ignored it and settled down with his own thoughts. Mainly the fact that someone he had wildly fancied for the past few months was lying in bed almost naked next to him. The fact that they had slept together the night before and he was now in his bed. He wanted to giggle into the sheets but didn’t want to disturb Dylan so he aimed to catch another half an hour of sleep. He stole a quick glance at the clock, it was four thirty in the afternoon. His hangover was beginning to show symptoms and he fell into a daydreaming lull, with Dylan’s words merely a backing soundtrack to the feeling of uncomfortable bliss.

“…of course it would fuck up, I told you this.”

“…both mental and physical?”

“…so all in all, deformities, affected minds and we’ve orphaned a fifteen year old boy.”

“…I wouldn’t like to be in his position.”

Carlos stiffened. He could tell something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He also knew he was in a dangerous situation because that was definitely a phone call he should not have heard. He knew he couldn’t stay still any longer so he decided to play down the fact he was beginning to shake by sprinting out of the bedroom and into the bathroom on the opposite side of the hall, clutching his mouth. He wasn’t actually going to vomit but he needed to get out of there, out of the private phone call and into his own personal space. He kicked the door shut and feigned a coughing fit.

Could that phone call be in regard to him? His drugs, his experiment? Well, he knew that it technically wasn’t his because he had signed the rights away to his work over to Mr Fitzgerald by joining the company, but it was nowhere near ready to be tested on anything other than rodents, let alone humans! Oh goodness, oh gosh, oh no, were the only thoughts running through his head as he began to truly begin to feel sick.

 

Dylan was knocking gently at first before starting to pound on the door. Carlos had collapsed over the bowl and was breathing heavily, panicking. His mind was turning fifty miles a second. It couldn’t be, that idiotic boss of his couldn’t have. The room was spinning and he couldn’t breathe, clasping onto to the toilet bowl for dear life. A cold sweat had broken out across his forehead. That was him they were talking about, he was convinced, convinced, convinced.

The door swung open and a genuinely panicked looking Dylan burst in and crouched down next to Carlos who quickly flushed the chain. He screwed his face up and averted his gaze. Dylan, on the other hand, flipped the toilet seat down and pulled Carlos up onto it. He dampened a flannel and wiped his face over with it, giving the shaky man on the toilet a bottle of cooled water.

“Are you okay? I have some medicine if you’d like it.” Dylan asked as his phone began to ring again. He ignored the shrill ringtone and as Carlos winced, he silenced it.

“You should probably answer that.” Carlos spat at him although curled up when Dylan shot a look at him.

“I care about your health more. Besides, as a bodyguard I feel like I would be incorrect in putting in my own opinion there. They need time to grieve.” Dylan slumped down on the floor next to the toilet Carlos was sitting on. His hands were in his lap and his head bowed.

“May I ask?” Carlos asked warily for this could have potentially been company confidentiality and Dylan seemed to value his job sometimes more than his life.

“Fitzgerald thought it would be a good idea to introduce a mother who had been suffering from hallucinations to a special kind of therapy involving art. It backfired and solidified her hallucinations for her. We thought it worked, and we sent her home and she ended her life. We orphaned a poor fifteen year old who watched his mother die through the reflection in the mirror as he was doing his hair.” Dylan sighed and fiddled with his fingers. He looked up at Carlos and he could see tears reflected in Dylan’s eyes.

Carlos’ shoulders slumped with visible relief. His life had flashed before his eyes, he could almost smell the varnished wood in the courtroom and see the look of disgust thrown at him by a collection of people in bizarre grey wigs. He slid off the toilet and down next to Dylan, tentatively wrapping an arm around the man’s shaking shoulders. To Carlos’ surprise, he nuzzled into the touch and closed his eyes peacefully. If it weren’t from the small words a few seconds later he would have assumed Dylan to be asleep.

“In this field it’s often trial and error but sometimes these errors can be pretty damn hard hitting. You’ve been part of this for only a short while and have yet to complete your first project but you do need to create an emotional shell around you. I suppose that’s why I tend to come off cold and calculating but that’s because I don’t want to get hurt and if I get hurt it may send everything crumbling down. With the amount of people after Fitzgerald, if I don’t protect him, who will? And if he’s gone, who will take over? He’s pushing eighty for Christ’s sake, sometimes I fear that all it would take would be a tiny little knock and goodbye goes his life, seeping out of his body and down the drain.” Dylan mumbled through little sniffs and sighs.

This time it was Carlos’ turn to be comforting to the devious bodyguard. He was ninety-nine per cent sure that it was his place to calmly deal with the situation and return to their peaceful morning of sex and television, but somewhere, deep in his mind, that biting one per cent muttered the word ‘bullshit,’ again, over and over in his mind. He swatted that little piece and stood up, holding his hand out for Dylan to grasp. Dylan’s smile was almost vulnerable as he grasped it and they both walked silently back into the bedroom.

The door was pushed over instantly and Carlos was pushed up against it to his surprise. Dylan’s lips were on his neck, sucking and nipping a trail from chin to collarbone as he threaded one of his hands into Carlos’ wildly dishevelled hair. One of Carlos’ hands flew out and grasped onto Dylan’s back but slipped around as the both of them were shirtless.

Well, shirtless was an understatement because apart from a pair of underwear each, the both of them were practically naked. Carlos trembled against Dylan’s back as the both of them walked backwards towards the bed. He was flipped over by the aggressor and thrown down on the sheets with only a brief interval before his lips were captured by Dylan and the both of them were wrapped up in a passionate kiss, Dylan asserting as much dominance as he could over his partner.

Watching this display, unamused, was Tabitha. She had been forgotten in the flurry of events and was truly annoyed about it. Her and Carlos locked eyes for the moment, piercing cat eyes against lusty, hazy human ones and he turned away quickly. The pissed off tabby cat stepped out of her bed elegantly with her tail raised in the air and padded along the floor. She slotted her head in the gap of the ajar door and pushed it open, leaving the couple to it, more interested in the tuna dish that lay on the kitchen floor for her to finish demolishing and the prospect of being able to sink her claws into the couch while her owner was distracted.

Back in the bedroom, a red pair of boxers adorned with holes lay on the floor next to a silky grey pair and on the bed was Carlos, completely naked, his body splayed across the sheets. His hands were fisted in the duvet and his legs drooped over the side. Kneeling on the carpet was Dylan and his hair was an almighty mess without the two handfuls of gel he pushed into it each morning. His lips were closed around Carlos’ head, playing with the tip and licking up any fluid that seeped out of it.

Carlos himself was a mess. He silently admitted to himself that this was one of his favourite things, he absolutely adored oral. Dylan seemed to have a technique that drove him crazy because hands down, he could completely say that this was the best blowjob he had ever received and he had received a fair amount. Then again, the setting they were in was idyllic. The sun was setting in the sky and the orange glow it cast over the room was beautiful and warming. There was the faint sound of birdsong and traffic outside and the quite often blaring of sirens was easy to ignore in the throes of pleasure. About three quarters of received oral was in a club that smelled of alcohol, sweat and illegal indoor cigarette smoking which was enough to snap someone’s focus and kill an arousal quicker than closing a pop-up book.

Dylan snapped him out of his thoughts by deep-throating him and Carlos arched, twisting his arms into the sheets.

“Ah!” Was the sharp noise that escaped his lips, followed by a drawn out humming sound. His focus now turned to exerting all the willpower in his brain and sending it to his hips to make sure they didn’t involuntarily buck into Dylan’s mouth. He didn’t want this to just be merely foreplay, he wanted to come. As long as Dylan was okay with it, of course. He would give fair warning to his partner and he was completely game in reciprocating in the same way. An involuntary thrust would end this happy moment.

As if hearing this thought, his hips decided to do just that and he shifted up into Dylan’s mouth and pushed himself further down his throat. Almost instantly after doing that he regretted it and frantically searched to see Dylan’s expression, fully expecting a gagging noise or to see him stand up and bolt to the bathroom, his turn to comfort the vomiting. To his sheer surprise, however, Dylan seemed to take it well and just continued on with his welcomed assault with enthusiasm.

Carlos began to feel the build-up begin in his stomach and he let out a vocalised groan as a semi-warning to Dylan. Dylan looked up through his lashes – oh God, thought Carlos – and didn’t skip a beat. However, Carlos wanted to make sure he had his full consent and didn’t want to cause any sort of argument so he aimed to firmly ask his request. It came out as a pathetic and aroused mewl.

“Dylan…I, I want to…in your mouth.” He asked almost shamelessly but he felt too timid to say the word ‘come.’

Dylan pulled away and sat back, his hands in between his knees. He looked up at Carlos who whined at the loss of sensation and sat up slightly, looking for a face of disgust or displeasure. The both of them locked eyes and Dylan nodded once before sliding forward and running his long tongue up the shaft of Carlos’ penis and then taking it back into his mouth and bobbing his head up and down with a furious pace.

The sensation in the pit of Carlos’ stomach continued to build and this was evident by the thrashing about of his arms and legs that almost knocked Dylan a couple of times (he skillfully avoided it). Dylan’s tongue grazed over the slit and that was enough to send Carlos into his orgasm although he couldn’t bear to look anywhere but the sheets. He turned his head to the side and concealed his face as he cried out. He didn’t feel Dylan back away but instead he seemed to suck him dry.

Once he was sure the embarrassment was over and he could feel his underwear being slipped back up his thighs he sat up and watched Dylan dress him with pure fascination. Rather, he couldn’t take his eyes off the man himself. A line of what he hoped was saliva was at the left side of his lip but apart from being a little sweaty and in the nude himself, Dylan was relatively composed. Carlos smiled lopsidedly at the man between his legs and helped him pull on his boxers.

As Dylan reached for his own pair, Carlos stood up and took his hand, the hand dropping the pair of underwear as he did so. He lifted Dylan to his feet and again, tangled his hands into his hair – Carlos thought to himself about how much better he looked without half of a hair salon in it – and brought him into a deep but languid kiss. He nuzzled Dylan’s neck and then leant up to his ear to deliver his proposition for the next fifteen minutes.

“Why don’t you let me reciprocate?” He breathed into the other’s ear and stepped back to survey his body. He was stunned, not at the beauty of it, because it was beautiful, but at the lack of arousal shown by it. Dylan bashfully looked down at a screwed up tissue on the floor and Carlos rolled his eyes and loudly clicked his tongue at the sight. His partner couldn’t help but smile as he quickly put on his underwear and roughly threw his arm around Carlos.

“Come on. Why don’t we wash your clothes, I’ll lend you some of mine for today and we can go and take a shower together.” Dylan suggested and Carlos followed like a child being offered a piss poor compromise to something he had been looking forward to for an eternity.

Two hours later, the both of them were fully dressed in similar attire and had squashed themselves in an armchair with a bowl of popcorn on their lap. A crime thriller/whodunnit played out on the television set in front of them. Carlos was draped over Dylan, his arm around his head and his legs hanging limply over the side of the chair. Dylan sat cross-legged with his head on Carlos’ shoulder and his arms around him, hands dipped into the bowl of popcorn that sat upon Carlos’ lap. They both had a shirt, a pair of black jeans and a pair of socks on. Dylan opted for a black shirt and black socks, while Carlos went for purple and grey.

Tabitha was moodily sprawled out on the sofa. She had been scolded furiously by Dylan for scratching up the polished wooden surface of one of the arms of the chair and had decided to take her revenge by laying out on the sofa and threatening hefty violence on anyone who dared to wish to wake her from her sleep. Her stomach was tauntingly out and Carlos eyed it a few times but didn’t dare touch it.

“I thought tabby cats were meant to be cute.” He asked, although it sounded more like a statement and Dylan glanced over at the foul-tempered cat, whose ears happened to twitch as if she had registered the fact that they were talking about her. He reached for another handful of popcorn and with the utmost elegance, completely missed his mouth as he tossed it in.

“She’s just a diva. I probably love her too much.”

He paused and then made a move to get up. Carlos stood up to let him go and quickly neatened his shirt once he was standing up.

“Carlos, darling, I’ll be right back, I’ve got to make another call. By the way, I love that shirt on you. Keep it.” Dylan quickly said, leaning over to give the now sitting Carlos a kiss and then disappeared into the bedroom with his phone. Carlos sighed at the action and zoned out from the thriller, giving his mind chance to digest the process of the last couple of days.

He had turned the quiet and intimidating beast of his boss’ bodyguard into his one night stand. He was actively pursued by Dylan and within a day Carlos felt that he had divulged enough information that would usually take years for him to even dare speak. He had been fucked and sucked by him and then shared a shower with him, he had seen his emotional side but also had been flabbergasted at the fact that Dylan could actively smile and laugh as well.

The kiss still lingered on his lips and Carlos smiled at the thought. He played with a button on his new gift, a shirt given to him by Dylan. He laid back and listened to the hum of mundane life and the unintelligible voice of Dylan a few doors down. Even though he couldn’t hear what he was saying, he enjoyed the background noise. He could get used to this, Carlos thought to himself and then shook the thought out of his mind. This was a one night stand and would never be the start of a relationship. Could it? Would it? Did he want it to? For once in his life, he didn’t know the answer to a query. Three in a row was simply out of the question and out of character for Carlos.

He had also seen the dark side of the scientific development industry in hearing that a fifteen year old boy had watched his own mother die and had been orphaned after a series of mental health trials went awfully wrong. He dreaded to think about what was going to happen to the person who suggested that she undertook those trials because he damn well knew that things were not good for those who killed patients, even unintentionally. This was going to be sensationalised and this poor boy emphasised as the authorities ruthlessly track down the most-likely-on-the-run professional.

Carlos had also learnt that cats were temperamental, tantalising teases who had a desire for blood, violence, revenge, sleep and tuna. They also weren’t keen on watching humans naked and enjoying each other’s bodies and presence. He took one glance over at Tabitha who had seemed to have sprung alive in the last thirty seconds and was now wagging her tail at Carlos while looking him up and down. If she were a dog, this would be a request for a cuddle. Carlos didn’t want to risk it, but he went over to her anyway and scratched under her chin. She nuzzled him shockingly and he sat next to her and flipped the movie off. The television showed CNN.

“An update in the desert disaster, the man who caused the mass psychological trauma has been officially named. Based in a medical laboratory in New York City, he gave the ok to test an autoimmunity drug on a selection of people in one of the US most isolated and questioned deserts…”

Carlos’ mind overtook his ability to reason and suddenly that phone call was ringing in his ears. The words replayed themselves over and over and puzzle piece after logical puzzle piece was clicking into place. The overshadowing, the sudden interest, the one-eighty-degree turn in personality, the plying with alcohol, all of the things he had ignored. Please, please, please he begged himself, the universe, any religious deity that was willing to listen. He calmed himself and tuned back in to the news reporter.

“The drug caused immediate side effects such as paranoia, hallucinations and serious psychosis. There have been a number of suicides in the eighteen hours that has passed since it has been tested. The most tragic case of them all includes the suicide of multiple members of the Palmer family, survived only by a fifteen year old boy who watched his mother die cruelly at the hands of this drug.”

It was him. He knew it. This was the boy they were talking about over the phone, there was no question about it. Carlos sprang to his feet and quickly whipped his shoes on to hear the final nail in the coffin that confirmed his very suspicions. As the reporter took a gulp of her water (that Carlos was jealous of since he could barely feel any moisture in his throat anymore), she looked into the camera, deadpan, and named the suspected criminal.

“Police are on the hunt for the scientist who gave the okay, deceived the townspeople and didn’t test on the animals. His name is Carlos…”

His picture was on the screen before it switched to an interview with Fitzgerald. Carlos was only half ‘there’ as it seemed, the other half of him had gone into so much shock and alarm that it was as if he had completely shut down. He gazed at the television with tears clouding his eyes as Fitzgerald pulled on an innocent composure and described Carlos as ‘obsessed with his own personal gain’ and ‘traumatised by a family incident’ and ‘too headstrong to fully comprehend consequences.’ He’d heard enough, Carlos decided and he quickly bolted towards the door to make some sort of pathetic escape.

A hand crashed against the metal and the noise made Carlos jump. Dylan was blocking the door and not giving the man his escape. This stunned Carlos back into the moment and he was now a complete mess, sobbing and shaking and shuddering and he absolutely couldn’t think of anything. A flicker of sympathy crossed Dylan’s eye but he shook his head and stood firm against the door, looking down pitifully at the crying heap that had sunk down onto the floor. Carlos again jumped to his feet and began spewing distraught words and requests at Dylan although the worlds were barely understandable due to his despair.

“Why? Why would you do this to me? Did he ask you? Last night was lovely and I really, really enjoyed it, and I thought that I was actually getting somewhere! I mean, we were celebrating moving onto animal testing and then you come along and you charm me into bed and I actually enjoy this one night stand. Here I was, contemplating even working something out with you, thinking you were this lovely, endearing, emotional and caring human being but in fact you don’t have a shred of personality! None, none at all.”

Carlos felt brave after his outburst, in his eyes the world had gone to shit anyway and he had nothing more to live for as he was most likely going to spend the rest of his adult life in prison and he wanted to rip Dylan into shreds. Of course, doing so only solidifies his guiltiness in the eyes of the law and the grain of rice sized chance of dodging a jail sentence would be stamped out and crushed, so he decided to do his cutting with words.

“He doesn’t care about you. You are a puppet.” He spat.  
“I get paid.” Was Dylan’s emotionless reply.

As Carlos heard the sirens blaring outside, he lunged for Dylan and was spun around. Dylan had grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back, pressing him up against the hallway wall. There were footsteps on the landing, and as Dylan opened the door, Carlos sunk to his knees shaking. Members of the police force crowded around the front door, and to Carlos, it seemed as if they were all pushing past to get the glory of the arrest. He was crying freely now and as Tabitha walked out of the living room and into the hallway to see what all of the commotion was, Carlos unceremoniously and messily vomited up his hangover everywhere, hitting the wall, Dylan’s foot and neatly coating the cat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos is arrested and firmly maintains his innocence. However, with almost the world testifying against him, things are looking grim as he settles down to spend the next twenty years of his life in jail, unable to shake images of an orphaned teenager named Cecil.

The next few moments pushed past Carlos like a blur. He clutched his mouth and ducked into the bathroom, wiping his mouth with a piece of tissue and in doing so, caught a glance at his dishevelled appearance in the mirror. He straightened up instantly and, ignoring those outside, he decided to spend a few moments of his final amount of time fixing his appearance. He smoothed down his hair, tucked in his – Dylan’s – purple shirt and pulled up his jeans. Finishing buttoning up the shirt, he went into the bedroom to retrieve his dirty t-shirt and to tie on his shoes. He locked the door behind him.

As he sat on the bed, he took the final moments before the police would barge in and slam some handcuffs on him to think about his action. There would have to be press out there, surely. He could go out there sobbing and crying to try and convince the world he was innocent but therefore make himself look even more of a guilty man. He could also step out hiding behind the emotionless shroud of science, confident he was not guilty (well, he wasn’t, at all) and persuade his audience. Maintain his dignity. He opted for the latter.

“Ow, shit, Tabitha!” Carlos heard Dylan shout from across the hall, in the kitchen and this pulled his lips into a half-smile. Dylan had ignored the police and Carlos and scooped up the vomit-covered cat to clean as soon as he had emptied his stomach. Tabitha seemed to be rebelling against the water and perhaps, Dylan himself. It was small compared to what he had potentially doomed Carlos to, but Carlos couldn’t help but feel that he was getting a minute amount of justice.

He took one last final breath and walked out of the bedroom and out of the apartment and was dismayed by how much backup there was there. Lazily parked police cars, the flash of cameras and the voice over the multiple radios took over Carlos’ senses. He shielded his eyes as he walked down the steps, ignoring the law-spouting police officer arresting him but somewhat sympathising with him by not bothering to handcuff him. As he continued to walk, a microphone was shoved in his face by a journalist. He spun around on his feet to face him.

“Really?” Carlos muttered with an eyebrow raised, trying to look intimidating but hoping that no-one could see through his façade. The journalist shrunk back as police tried to restrain the collection of observers.

“You don’t have to answer him, sir. Please head to the car.” A short, broad shouldered woman with greasy ginger hair scraped up into a doughnut bun sternly instructed but he chose to ignore her, putting his hand out.

“No, no, it’s fine. No-one has a chance to twist my words if I answer myself. I will maintain my innocence in regards to the testing. Yes, I developed the drug but it was no-where near at the level to test it on humans at the present time. I had agreed to the animal testing but someone must have bypassed the lock on the system. It must have been someone who was too enthusiastic to test and who knew how to bypass the lock. I know I am innocent and I pray that justice will be served to the right people and those who have been affected get as much help as they need. Even more, just to be safe. I’m sorry that my drug has done what has happened but I had no part in it, I promis-“

It was at this point Carlos had been thrown to the floor, handcuffed and then roughly picked up and told to move. He sighed and followed as he was almost tossed into the back of the car and belted in. The car itself was surprisingly comfy but there were locked bars over every window. It wasn’t as if he was looking for an escape route, but he wanted to know his surroundings. He looked out of the window and up and allowed his emotions to slip, lifting his foot onto the chair to bury his head into.

As he felt the seat beside him sag a little and the quiet hum of chatter, Carlos began to attempt to predict what sort of questions he would be asked. He pondered the public’s perception of him and most of all, he thought about that poor, poor boy, only four years younger than him, orphaned at that delicate age and how he indirectly played a part in it. Even though it should be something Carlos was fighting against, he couldn’t help but feel racked with guilt. As the car set off, he was thankful that those who were also in it ignored his presence. He didn’t feel ready to talk as of yet. He drifted off peacefully as the car drove on.

Carlos woke up in a cell. He gasped and sat bolt upright for a second before realising that he had been arrested. He wondered why they hadn’t just woken him up but perhaps they suspected that he would freak out and be a problem suspect. Beside him was some lukewarm water in a plastic cup. As disgusting as it tasted, he downed the lot within seconds and grimaced. At the same time, the door swung open and two officers shuffled in. He didn’t bother to make eye contact with them and stared at their polished shoes.

“We’d like you to come with us, please. We need some samples.” One of them spoke in a deep, baritone voice. The voice vibrated pleasantly through Carlos’ ears. He nodded and stood up, following them through the door to his cell and into an office. He figured he was most likely being held at a police station in NYC, he didn’t know the area too well outside of his mother’s apartment, a few bars and the laboratory.

After fingerprints were taken and he changed into the uniform worn by prisoners, he was bundled back into the cell with a very thumbed-through copy of Wuthering Heights. He flicked through the book bored, he’d pursued something that could have been love twice now and both had bit back fifty times as hard, one condemning him to the bars he was behind at the present time. Laying back on the hard bed, he gazed up at the small window – it was night now – and regretted ever taking that scholarship.

“You’re allowed a phone call. Come and take it.” An officer peered through the small opening in the door, barking the words. Carlos stood up and out towards the phones with the officer standing at an uncomfortable closeness to him.

“Do you mind?” Carlos asked, sharply.

“Police rules. Making sure you don’t disclose any information you’re not meant to.” Was the matter-of-fact reply.

Ignoring him, he dialled the number of his mother’s apartment. After a few rings, it picked up and he could hear subdued sobbing in the background which sounded like his mother. His heart shattered at the sound of it but he also realised that it was not his mother who had answered his call.

“Hello?” Definitely not his mother but a man with a slight Spanish accent. His uncle.

“Hello? Uncle, it’s me, Carlos. Could you pass me over to mum?”

A breath was heard on the other side of the phone.

“You’re dead to her now. She’s selling all of your stuff.”

The phone line went dead. Carlos hung up and pushed past the police guard to his own cell again and the door was shut behind him. He sat in the corner of the room on his makeshift bed and curled up almost into a little ball, the book neglected on the floor. Someone else came in with a glass of water and a plate of something vaguely edible but Carlos ignored them. They came in again to remove the untouched plate of the vaguely edible matter a few hours later after some bugs had decided to nest in the food.

The next thing he knew was that he was on auto-pilot, lifelessly moving towards the interrogation room to attempt to persuade the world and his mother of his innocence. His uncle and him had always had a strained relationship after he walked in on Carlos kissing another man while his mother was blissfully unaware of his orientation and until he moved to University, he would be harassed by him with homophobic digs. He believed that homosexuality was an insult and that he should not be part of the family any more. He got his wish in the end, Carlos thought bitterly.

He found himself face to face with two inspectors and sighed. He didn’t want a stupid television-style ‘good cop, bad cop’ interrogation. He just wanted to go back to his mother, find another job and sue the shit out of Fitzgerald. It was a man and a woman. The man was incredibly dark-skinned and looked to be in his thirties or forties. He was bald and intimidating, with an impressive physique which showed through his fitted black shirt. He fixed his glasses and looked down at the files. The woman was just as sharp, ice-cold skin, dark lipstick and brunette hair in a tight bun. Her blue eyes were piercing and held Carlos in a chilling stare.

“So, sir. I have some files here to show you. This interview will be recorded and anything you say here will be used as evidence in your trial. You have the right to remain silent although that is not recommended.” The male detective assured him.

“Yes.” Carlos responded, bluntly.

“So, you’ve been working for Fitzgerald’s company for about six months and you’ve been researching into developing a drug that combats HIV since you started. Here I have an essay of some sorts that you wrote explaining your dedication. May we know why you wanted to research that?”

“I lost my brother to HIV. Well, AIDS. When I was a child. People associated it as a disease given to the homosexual community by God to condemn our existence, but he was a straight guy who caught it from a woman. It was so painful to see him die from a common cold that I had passed onto him so I wanted to do whatever I could to stop the disease.” Carlos explained, trying to keep his face deadpan but he could feel the emotions overcoming him.

“Could you say that you were entirely dedicated to your research?” The woman chimed in with the next question.

“Entirely.” Was Carlos’ response.

“So much that you would be a little hasty in moving the drug through the ranks to get it distributed quicker?”

Carlos could instantly read what she was getting at, that he was a man haunted by the death of his brother and wanted to avenge him or something along those lines. She wanted to depict him as the confused and desperate teenage boy who wanted to eradicate the guilt he had for killing his brother, ultimately. Carlos decided to shut her lead down quickly and brutally.

“No. It would be irresponsible and completely against the point to do something as dangerous as that and would go against the purpose of the drug itself. I am still training, obviously, but one of the things that we were told was that there’s steps to developing a drug and that the drug would be deemed unlawful if it didn’t follow the steps. Animal testing was skipped, making it an illegal drug and placing it under a lot of investigation. If I was so desperate to rid myself of the guilt by releasing something that could help prevent HIV, why would I do so in such a way to make the drug illegal and stop it from being released?” Carlos flipped the question back at the woman who grunted in irritation and began to thumb through the files in front of her.

“All of your scientific discoveries are signed over to Fitzgerald, aren’t they?” The man begun. Carlos was annoyed that he didn’t know their names.

“Yes. What are your names?” He bit back.

“Not of importance. All of your discoveries are signed over to him so if he didn’t have enough evidence to report you to the police, he would have taken the flack for your disaster. Although, the fact that you have no alibi along with a motive and your notes is enough to charge you. Where were you yesterday after you ‘left’ the laboratory?”

“I went drinking at Minnie’s mixers, bumped into Dylan and went back to his house. We had sex and went to sleep. I awoke to a phone call he was answering. He mentioned about mental issues and physical deformation before palming me off with a lie saying that the mother’s boy committed suicide.” Carlos locked eyes with the male inspector as he irritably switched off the recorder.

“Do you understand what you have done, Carlos? You’ve left a whole town ruined. Scarred by mental illness and you’ve orphaned a fifteen year old boy. Poor, poor Cecil. You’ve hurt him, a man he will never meet has ruined his life. His home and his mother and his town. Gone. Ruined, because of an insatiable, idiotic ‘scientist’ such as yourself. This is why they shouldn’t let kids graduate college early.” The woman spoke once the recorder was off. The man went to stop her but let her finish, sitting back without saying a word.

“Like this town matters to you. It wasn’t even on the map, nor was it specified in any news outlets. I sense something fishy going on here, a cover-up of some sorts. This is illegal and I will no longer speak since you are not recording.” Carlos said, trying to keep a professional demeanour but all that rolled around in his head was the name Cecil. Cecil, Cecil, Cecil, the boy he had orphaned by creating the drug. He imagined a small blonde boy clinging to his mother’s corpse and shuddered.

“See you at the trial, Carlos.” And with that, Carlos left the room and returned to his cell, where a wrapped up sandwich sat next to another glass of water. He was starving so decided to tuck into the sandwich and picked up his copy of Wuthering Heights, settling down to read it.

Carlos’s trial came and went in a blur, he lost all hope around the time the prosecution produced some tampered with CCTV footage that the court took as factual. He plunged into despair as both Fitzgerald and Dylan gave false statements that the judge and jury looked sympathetic with. When it was finally his turn, he sighed and looked around the courtroom at the infinity of cold faces that looked back at him. He stuttered out phrases like ‘I’m innocent’ and ‘how could you believe that’ but his façade was smashed on the floor.

The judge handed him a 20 year sentence without parole, referring to the crime as ‘one of the most callous and cold acts he had ever witnessed’ and to Carlos as ‘a man without an inch of innocence etched on his face.’ Carlos listened as he gripped onto the stand, looking down at the floor to hide his tearful eyes. As he was led from the stand and outside into the van that would transport him to a high-profile prison, he shot a red-rimmed, teary look to one of the cameras and could see the camerawoman falter. He hoped that it would give her the scoop she desired.

On his first, full day in prison, Carlos was called out for a visit. Something he didn’t expect after the heinous phone call from his uncle and the fact that he didn’t have a friend to his name. He hoped and prayed it was his mother, because who else could it be? The bowling ball dropped into his stomach when he saw Dylan sitting opposite the table that he was being guided to. Carlos sat down and his words were like a snake’s hiss to his former-whatever. Carlos didn’t have a name with him that didn’t start with some sort of phallic word.

“Why are you here?” Carlos snapped at the sneering man in front of him. Although he hated every cell of his being, he still couldn’t deny that he looked attractive. He was dressed more casually, black t-shirt and black jeans, the muscles that made him a bodyguard poking out of the sleeves. He was annoyed at himself for thinking that way.  
“I came to see how you were?” Dylan asked with hesitation although he tried to disguise it with sarcasm. He sat back and put one foot up on his chair to seem relaxed. Carlos stepped back too, straightening his back and folding his arms over his chest.

“Right. I share a cell with two other burly guys who control pretty much anything and glare at me whenever I do anything more than breathe, I’m going to go down in history as a disgusting criminal for something we both know I didn’t do and now I’m sat opposite the man who probably tampered footage and also testified against my alibi. So yeah, I’m fine!” Carlos refused to look Dylan in the face but was surprised as Dylan leant forward and placed a hand on the desk in front of Carlos.

“I came to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened to you. Tabitha misses you, by the way” He chuckled to himself but quickly stopped due to Carlos’ hostile reaction.

Dylan walked out leaving Carlos with his mouth open. However, on contemplation later in his cell, he realised that it wasn’t an apology out of affection or care, it was one out of guilt but one where he took barely a percent of the blame. Dylan felt sorry for Carlos, nothing more, nothing less. He threw himself down onto the bed (luckily he had the bottom bunk) and ignored the two other men he shared with as they were locked in an arm wrestle with each other as a strange pseudo-masculine double edged sword of a playful greeting and a demonstration of who is boss and the strength that each of them held.

He lay back and contemplated that he would have to spend 20 years like this. Carlos glanced over at the room of three beds and a toilet sectioned off by a half-wall that was already unflushed and stank to high heaven. He missed his little bedroom, he missed home. He would spend more of his life here than anywhere else so far, but this was certainly not home, nor would it ever become home.

Carlos rolled over and went to sleep. He dreamed of both a better life and the boy his age, Cecil who probably dreamed of one too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /bad person for not updating/
> 
> I'm sorry, haha. Exams and job interviews (all failed, sobs) and flu. Well, probably a cold but I'm very overdramatic (as if the world couldn't tell)
> 
> I have a tumblr! Well, two.
> 
> uncreativerabbit.tumblr.com is my personal  
> paperbackbunny.tumblr.com is my writing
> 
> thank you! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos does his jail time, haunted by the name of the young man that he orphaned. On his release date, he is both threatened and advised to get out of NYC so he does, crashing his car and ending up in a strange town not on the map of the USA. Motivated by his lack of home, the strangely setting sun and the mysterious radio host who seems infatuated with him, Carlos beds down for his first night in the town.

If Carlos had to describe the twenty years of his life he spent locked up, he would only have one word for the person asking. Bedlam. Even going in without a shred of experience he believed that he was now well-equipped for any sort of drastic situation that would cause the complete breakdown of both society and the human brain. He witnessed it almost every single day.

Within the first week his cell went down from three to two after waking up one morning and finding a non-confiscated razor on the floor next to the bloodied, slashed corpse of a man. He remembered jumping onto the bed in a little corner and refusing to move until a guard had shouted at him to get out. He left with his hand obscuring the view of the body. Little did he know that often there would be a case where he walked past a cell and saw the silhouette of a hanging man. They were well rehearsed in calling over the prison guards.

The first week was his most eventful week in the prison. His cell was basic with three hard beds and a non-private toilet along with a tiny window that had bars across it. Carlos ended up making himself sick as he struggled to use the toilet in the company of his cellmates (who uncomfortably had no problem and even made conversation with each other, leaning their arms on the half-wall that hid any private parts). On the third day, during the open hour in the prison, he begged a prisoner who had his own cell to use his, which he agreed to. Carlos hunched over and cried with both relief and the thought that this was his life for the next twenty years.

“So, little one, what’s your name? You look as if you’re barely old to be in this place.” The prisoner asked as Carlos allowed him into his cell again. He had a soft, soothing voice that Carlos was relaxed by. The both of them sat down on the bed together.

Carlos surveyed his looks. He was a man who had to be in his late twenties or early thirties, a slightly gaunt, pale face but with the contrast of sandy blonde hair. He was attractive, Carlos admitted but not in the normal way society deems something or someone attractive. He was tall and bony, compared to Carlos who was shorter and had more than a little weight around his stomach.

“Well? You can stare at me while talking.” The man interrupted Carlos’ train of thought with a wicked grin that made Carlos’ heart flutter. He violently shook his head because he knew that he couldn’t have feelings for a prisoner. A probably straight prisoner. Completely straight. Besides, even being physically attracted to certain people ended always in a bad way. This was exactly how he ended up in this hellhole, for crying out loud!

He was cut off by a pair of semi-chapped lips pressing onto his. Carlos could feel his head lightly touching the cold concrete wall that separated this cell from the next cell. The kiss deepened and Carlos had no will to not reciprocate and the both of them were, in seconds, all over each other, with Carlos’ hands entwined around the other’s neck.

“Sam Walters.” The man muttered as he moved away with a grin.

“Carlos.” Responded the shy but slightly turned on Carlos.

Within ten minutes, a prison guard walked past and noticed the two of them in an incredibly compromising position, their clothes pooled on the floor. She told the two to separate themselves and sent Carlos back to his cell with a wink. This act started off a fifteen year long relationship, Carlos’ most serious so far. Within a few months, they’d been able to pull enough strings to move into the same cell together and this made Carlos’ experience more pleasurable.

They spoke about everything over the next 15 years, their crimes, – Sam was an armed robber who accidentally shot and killed someone at the age of 25 – their families, their past-times and their love lives. They talked of dates and moving in together and perhaps even marriage one day. Carlos convinced Sam of his innocence and at the beginning they both planned on working to prove his innocence, but around the eight year mark, they decided it wasn’t worth it and wanted to work on rebuilding their own lives and making a life together. Carlos was happy, Sam was his little bit of happiness in this hellhole of a place. He didn’t really pay much attention to the other prisoners in the place.

However, with Carlos’ string of luck, it was all about to crash down on the night before Sam’s release. Sweet words and promises like ‘I’ll wait for you,’ and ‘I’ll visit’ were ruined as Sam sat him down to have their last conversation before he was due to walk out of prison that time tomorrow.

“Carlos, I want to talk to you about this.” Sam started, unable to make eye contact and staring down at the floor with his hands in his lap. He was sitting on the bed. Carlos was instantly defensive.

“Yes?” He responded, biting down his emotions.

“I have a wife and a child.”

“Oh.”

It ended there. They didn’t discuss anything more, Carlos settled to sleep in the bottom bunk while Sam climbed into the disused top bunk. The lights were out but the last thing Carlos heard as he was falling off to sleep was, surprisingly, the sound of Sam crying. He was stunned and wanted to climb up there to hold him, but thought better of it since he assumed that Sam thought he was asleep.

“I’m sorry, Carlos. I love you.” Sam confessed.

Carlos felt as if his heart had stopped. This was the first time someone had actually said those words to him and he was sure Sam had meant them. Fifteen years was a long time to be a part of someone else’s life, especially when you were with them day in, day out with not a break in between. Sure there were arguments and disagreements but there were also cuddles and kisses and someone there to wipe away tears and rub unwell tummies.

Without hesitation, he scaled the steps to the top bunk and climbed in beside Sam, cuddling up to him. Sam inhaled sharply and tensed in his arms but did not push him away which Carlos saw as a good thing. Before Sam could speak, Carlos explained his motives.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I am upset, but you are too. This situation is not normal, it escalates things, including emotions. I’ll walk away tomorrow, but why not spend the last night in happiness? I love you too. Even though it’s only for one last night, it’s lovely to find someone who finally loves me in return, even if I am second best.”

The two of them spent the night in the same compromising position that they shared fifteen years ago. The next day, Sam hugged Carlos goodbye and left without a trace, as Carlos has insisted. Even though he knew it was for the best, he still couldn’t help but be lonely. Carlos still kept their picture together, on the side. They had managed to convince a guard to give them just one picture, and she did.

The next five years passed in a sea of loneliness, Carlos greeted those who spoke to him pleasantly but didn’t really bother to make friends. They were nice people, beyond the awful crimes they had committed, but he wanted to get out there and rebuild his life. He just needed to focus on making time go faster, so he ended up sleeping the majority of it away.

In the last year or so, the name came back to haunt him. Cecil. Carlos wondered how he was doing. He was almost 35 now and probably had his own job, his own life and perhaps even his own family. He wondered if he had chosen to stay in the media, voice his opinion on what had happened or retreat to a private life. Where he lived now, what he did, and most of all, if he despised Carlos. Surely, he must. Did he even know what the situation was? Did he believe Carlos was innocent? Carlos didn’t know but a small part of his brain told him to stop thinking about it. He’d never meet him, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about him, up to the day he was released.

On the day Carlos was released, he was shocked to find that Sam was waiting for him. He’d aged a bit, stubble lining his chin and the almost non-existent contours of his face. He’d put on weight and looked as if he had fit into a lovely, domesticated family life. He was tossing around a pair of car keys until he noticed Carlos and he held them out to him.

“This is my apology. Listen, no offence, Carlos, but the media hasn’t shut up about you in the days leading up to your release. Your mother was on television talking about how she disowned you and that scientist person you worked for has basically presented you as a tortured soul who was desperate for revenge against the world that took your brother. This is my old car. I’m giving it to you. You could sell it but considering it’s about as old as your jail sentence, you might get 250 bucks for it, max. It’s got an almost full tank, take it and get out of town.”

Carlos took the keys in surprise and looked from the keys, to the car and finally to Sam. He didn’t know what to say and was stunned by the other man’s kindness, especially when he hadn’t even crossed his mind in the last year or two of his prison sentence. He stepped forward to plant a kiss on the other’s cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll take that advice.” Carlos mumbled as he walked over to the nearest bank. Sam accompanied him in and waited in line. They chatted about mundane things like Sam’s family and how excited Carlos was to have his first meal outside of prison. Sam warned him about overeating and explained his side effects of his body almost automatically rejecting the food and Carlos nodded, taking every bit of information on board.

Carlos pleasantly found out from the clerk (who luckily had no idea of who he was, although he was being side-eyed by the manager) that he had just over two and a half thousand dollars in his bank account after his mother sold all of his stuff and his last paycheck from the laboratory.

“I would take you to dinner, but…” Sam began, but stopped, holding his hand to his chin and looking off in the distance.

“You don’t want to be associated with a criminal like me. I get the picture. Thanks.” Carlos snapped and walked out of the bank after getting a new bank card. He was dressed in the same clothes that he had received from Dylan all those years ago, the purple shirt and the jeans. He ignored Sam’s pleas and walked off towards the car, stepping in and looking at what would most likely be his home for a while.

He drove for about ten miles and found a small store that sold homeware, food and other things fairly cheaply. He bought some bottles of water, a bucket, some shampoo, long lasting food, a towel, some blanket and other necessities to keep him going. Next door was a clothes shop that he visited and he bought a formal outfit for interviews along with a few pairs of jeans, underwear and socks, some t-shirts and one or two plaid shirts. As he was leaving, a white, button up protective coat caught his eye and he ended up buying it too, as a reminder of his scientific days.

Carlos left the store with his bags and was thankful that no-one recognised him. He stepped into his little car, probably black but coated with dirt that he didn’t have time to wash off and drove off. It was a bit creaky but in the state that he was in, he believed that he had no right to complain about what he had been given. He was grateful. Now, Carlos, with little to no knowledge of the USA was forced to try and find a place where he wasn’t known at all to rebuild his life. He didn’t know how long it would take for the crime he was framed for to be cleared off his record. He was forced to declare it to every employer who asked.

He decided to switch on the radio which was probably a bad idea, considering what came on next. It was Fitzgerald – Carlos wondered how he would still be alive – talking about how his company has prospered and was now the leading company for pharmaceutical supplies in the US and was hoping to expand internationally. Of course, there was the elephant in the room for his company, and that was Carlos.

“So, how did your company recover from the crime of 1994, with that young scientist who you had pushed through college yourself?” Asked a too-chirpy woman on the other end of the radio.

“With Carlos? Well, in the end it came down to a young scientist who was too eager, too naïve and had too much of an end goal to work in this field. What sort of purpose would he have had once he had found a goal? He would have sat back and relaxed, which is not something you can do in this field. Anyway, we held a meeting and emphasised that what he did was wrong, completely and how to appropriately test and develop drugs and then we went back to work. We couldn’t spend much time thinking about criminals. I’m just glad justice has been served.” Responded Fitzgerald, and Carlos could almost hear the sneer in his voice.

“Dylan, you were romantically attached to him. How did you get over it?” The reporter asked and Carlos almost stopped the car there and then, out of anger.

“I was heartbroken at first, obviously. I know he’s going to be leaving prison in my shirt which hurts. I’m not sure if I should be flattered that he came to me when he had committed such a heinous crime, expecting me to console him, or outraged for his victims and the poor boy named Cecil that he had orphaned. I got over it, it was a long road and it was hard, but in the end, I’m glad I’m married now to someone who loves and cherishes me and is not a disgusting criminal. I hope to never see him on the streets of New York again.” Spoke Dylan, who sounded deeper and who Carlos was horrified to hear from.

Well, that was obviously a threat, Carlos thought to himself. He was beside himself with anger now that the both of them had got away with it scot-free. He wanted to burst into their lives and prove his innocence, but with a restraining order slapped against him and all odds stacked up not in his favour, he dismissed it as a stupid and emotional idea. He wanted to find a new town, practice science, find a flat with a cat and perhaps meet a nice, normal and forgiving man who he could grow old with.

Carlos’ distracted mind caused him to take a wrong turn and in a panicked mode, he hit the accelerator rather than the brakes and hurtled straight into a lamppost that bowed and fell onto his car. Luckily it missed him, only falling onto the front of the car but he was still thrown awkwardly out of his seat after the loose-fitting belt clicked out of its lock.

The last thing Carlos heard as he drifted out of consciousness was the crackle of the radio losing signal and then a baritone voice, seemingly dripped with honey, over the radio, beginning a new show.

_‘A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale.’_

About two minutes later, Carlos came to, still in his car. The radio was still playing and he could still hear the mysterious man updating the town that he was in on what was probably the news show. Something about a dog park being off limits. Carlos ignored the radio and stumbled out of the car, clutching his head tightly and looked around at the surroundings. It was desert as far as he could see and his car was no longer impacted on a lamppost. In fact, it was neatly parked against a sidewalk in what he thought was the local town. Residents glanced at him as they continued on with their day.

‘Listeners, we have an update on the strange car that appeared in town, earlier today. A man has come out of the car. He seems dazed, weary and undeniably attractive. Look at that hair. That perfect, perfect hair. Is that hair possible? Is that hair illegal? It makes me wish I had that kind of hair. Some days I don’t even have hair at all.’

Carlos glanced back at the radio, confused and took a step closer to it, peering inside his car. The man stopped talking so Carlos stepped back out and continued to explore the area that his car had seemed to have magically transported to, as far as he could tell. Across the street he noticed three tall beings. Very tall beings and he could only make out that one of the beings had pitch-black skin.

_‘Our man – is he a scientist? He’s wearing a lab coat and doing science type things. I can assure you that he seems to be a scientist. Then again, we are all scientists. We are both everything and nothing at the exact same time. Oh. He seems to be looking at the angels who do not exist. He should probably stop doing that. I wonder if he can hear me.’_

Deliberately, Carlos flashed a smile and waved at the small lump protruding from a nearby electricity pole. He recognised a camera when he saw one. He wanted to cheekily flip it off but he wondered how the mysterious man would interpret that. Carlos sat on the trunk of his car and looked around the town and found the source of the radio waves. Beyond the hills, the lights, the strange sun and the electricity poles was a radio tower attached to a building. In big letters on a billboard outside, it labelled it as ‘Night Vale Community Radio.’ The name rung familiar to Carlos.

_‘Oh goodness, oh smiling God, he can! Although that’s not why I’m freaking out, it was that smile! Those teeth, perfect like a military cemetery. He cannot be illegal, but Night Vale has brought him and accepted him. Who is he? I must learn this for the sake of journalistic purposes! Oh, wait, no, I’m getting a message from Station Management. “Cecil, get on with the show?” Okay.’_

Cecil. The name stuck out like a sore thumb. However, Carlos shook his head and put it out of his mind. Cecil was a relatively common name, right? As the mysterious man named Cecil informed the small town of Night Vale of the community calendar, Carlos pulled his knees up and crossed his legs. He watched the sun set in the town and as he looked at the time in the car, he realised that it seemed to be setting twenty minutes later than it should for a June evening. Something he could look into. Perhaps he had purpose in this town.

Once the sun had set properly, Carlos ate some of the crackers and cheese he had packed into the back of the car and was sad that he couldn’t enjoy a proper meal. He took his shoes and shirt off and draped the blanket over him as he lay on the back seats of the car. Carlos used his shirt as a pillow. It was uncomfortable but he would have to get used to it.

 _‘Good night, Night Vale, good night.’_ Said the mysterious man like a lullaby and within seconds, Carlos was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I was naughty in updating, here's another chapter. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> -> tumblrs.
> 
> Personal: uncreativerabbit.tumblr.com  
> Writing: paperbackbunny.tumblr.com
> 
> :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos is dragged up at the crack of dawn by an ever-optimistic Cecil, who sorts him out with everything he could desire. However, Carlos realises his secret past is not a secret that is solely exclusive to him and is terrified about his chances ruined before they could begin. As Cecil invades his mind more, Carlos not only has himself to think about, but the sanity of the Voice of Night Vale.

Carlos was awoken by the sound of drumming on the roof of his car. He slowly, groggily sat up causing the crick in his neck to make itself known to Carlos via a sharp pain shooting into his shoulder. It was a well, horrifically shitty night’s sleep and to have such a rude awakening was quickly putting Carlos into a foul mood. He didn’t even acknowledge the continuous drumming, expecting it to be a bird of some sort. He’d get rid of it when he was a bit more conscious.

The sun was up although he couldn’t tell what time it was because the car didn’t display it and his old phone probably sat in a museum somewhere, or probably part of the construction of a house. Those things, aptly named ‘bricks’ were probably stronger than their namesake. As for a watch, the last time he had seen his was on his bedside cabinet at his mother’s. It may be in a pawn shop, it might be a present for a kid who is now an adult or is probably floating around a New York landfill, if there was one in New York.

In place of the drumming which stopped seconds ago, a face had pressed itself against Carlos’ rear-view window and had made eye contact. Carlos didn’t react for the first few seconds the irritating intrusion was there but he soon flinched back before locking eyes with the face and scowling at it. He had no time for this place and their weird citizens after being treated like an exhibit by the absolute bizarre and probably not right radio host. What was his name again? Charles? Connor?

‘No, Cecil,’ his mind echoed. Carlos answered the man at the window with a rude gesture and mouthing the words ‘go’ and ‘away’ at him. The man answered by peering into the front, right side window and Carlos sighed, throwing the blanket away from him and sitting up, running his fingers through his hair in both frustration and maybe, a slight attempt to make it passable. The intruder would just have to deal with his morning breath and dishevelled appearance.

On observation, the man was not particularly tall but not particularly short. He had hair of some kind and while he carried a little less weight than Carlos, he was not particularly thin or gaunt like his previous ex-boyfriend was. Apart from that, he seemed particularly average but the sun was glaring off the mirror and obscuring Carlos’ view. He leant forward and pulled up the safety lock, the car clicked in response and allowed the mysterious human access to the car. He swung open the car door almost instantly and sat down on the front seat.

“Hello! You, you must be the new resident of Night Vale! I’m not sure if you remember me or recognise me by my voice, but I’m the radio host, Cecil! You smiled at me last night on the camera, and oh…” He trailed off in some sort of daydream while Carlos stared at him, bemused. He was way too sunshine-perky for someone who he had just woken up to cope with. Carlos looked at him like he was the sun, in fact; one eye squinting and the rest of his face grimacing. The man, the radio host, Cecil, hadn’t even bothered to look at him.

“…anyway, I came to see if you were okay. You do, um, have a lamppost on your car and when I checked the records, the City Council nor the Sheriff’s Secret Police were expecting a new resident and you have nowhere to live. Mayor Pamela Winchell seems pretty interested in you and she’s called an emergency meeting to introduce you to the town. Perhaps she’ll set you up with a house.” Cecil finished and sat there, swinging his legs.

So this was the radio host. His voice, while undeniably baritone, didn’t sound as harsh off-radio. Not that this was a bad thing as Carlos thought it made him sound more genuine and also softer in person. Perhaps he was just a kind, gentle soul who wanted to help the world but Carlos was suspicious of any help. His experiences were help that he took that he didn’t know came with catches and clauses. Such as taking the stick for a disgusting crime. Orphaning a poor, fifteen-now-thirty-five year old boy. Ending up dating and fucking a married man. Perhaps Carlos was just bitter, but who could honestly blame him?

Trapped in his ever-teasing thoughts, Carlos didn’t realise Cecil had been talking until he pulled back the seat as if to help Carlos out of the car. He looked at the outstretched hand, stunned, noticing that Cecil had incredibly bony fingers.

“Well, come on then!” Cecil hastily spoke, reaching forward to grab Carlos, the action which the latter swiftly avoided. The radio host toppled towards Carlos and landed on his stomach hands first, as he had thrust them out to break his fall and to grip on the side of the chair. Carlos breathed in sharply and grunted at the push on his stomach.

“That really didn’t help my bladder. Cecil, I haven’t showered in a while, I haven’t got a pot to piss in – literally – and I don’t even know the town yet you want me to meet all of the residents? Looking like this? Are you joking?” He snapped as he shoved Cecil off of him albeit a bit too violently. What surprised him was Cecil’s face. He looked utterly dejected, looking down at the seat like a locked-out puppy. He didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Is there a place with a sink I can wash up in? A toilet would be cool too.” He asked, a bit more kindly. Cecil sprang up like a jack in a box, the sunshine look plastered on his face again as he stepped up and climbed out of the car with Carlos staggering after him, absolutely exhausted.

After ten minutes of silent walking, Cecil pointed out something about Carlos randomly.

“You have great fashion sense! That lab-coat makes you look so cool, so mysterious, and pretty h-“ Cecil cut himself off as if he knew what he was going to say. Luckily for Carlos, he didn’t have a clue and decided to take the opportunity to survey and judge Cecil’s fashion sense for himself.

He wore a range of purple hues plastered together in the gaudiest way possible. Lilac Converse-like shoes with white and yellow flowers hand decorated, white lacy socks peeking out of the tops, black leggings and a silk purple button up unlike his decorated shoes. Perhaps they were his inspiration. Carlos pretended to be stunned by his acquaintance’s (that’s what they were, right?) fashion taste, but actually he may have been slightly jealous that he definitely could not pull off leggings as good as Cecil could. He also found himself checking out Cecil’s backside, which he mentally chided himself for.

_No. Falling for people gets you into all of the messes you’ve ever been in throughout your life. Stay a spinster. Date science. Date something made by science._

“Humans are made by science.” Carlos retaliated out loud and Cecil, who was in front, stopped and spun on his heel.

“You’re a scientist, aren’t you? I could tell, straight away! Science is so cool, isn’t it? Although I suppose it can be pretty destructive. Facts can take away innocence. Anyway, I’ve been interested in science since I was fifteen and I found some notes that a group of scientists left behind after an experiment. They weren’t particularly nice, but their notes were so interesting! When did you get interested in science? Tell me about you.”

Cecil had unintentionally doomed himself to Carlos’ jargon-filled rambling about science until they reached the front door to the radio station. However, he seemed to be happy about this. Carlos chatted to Cecil for the rest of the journey but the distraction was good as Carlos forgot about the more pressing issues.

“Experimenting and discovering is where my love lies as a scientist. Isn’t it just so cool when you can actually find something out that no-one ever knew before? I, I mean, you could find out something so earth-changing and amazing and you’re the first one to discover it? I also love chemistry because it just shows how versatile the world is, that things can be mixed and it can create new things and then un-create them. Tiny things, even a few atoms worth of change could be absolutely colossal. Sometimes you can go back, but sometimes you cannot. You have to accept the change and move on from it to improve. Change isn’t a mistake, it’s a logical test put in by life to show how versatile people can be. It’s whether you choose to channel it and be a scientist.”

Cecil looked up at the rambling Carlos in awe as he fished around for the key to unlock the door. Carlos hadn’t realised the depth of his words until he could feel a heavy silence between them for a few seconds.

“That’s so cool…” Cecil mumbled as he unlocked the door and Carlos found himself blushing at the words. Someone appreciated him. His science, his discoveries. Perhaps Cecil wasn’t as bad as Carlos had initially thought. They both stepped in and the door slammed behind them as a menacing growling came from another door opposite the entrance. There was a silver plaque on the door that read ‘Station Management.’ Carlos automatically stepped behind Cecil as he had a feeling that Cecil knew what that was.

“U-Um, hello! I brought the scientist I was talking about on the show to use the bathroom before introducing him to the town. I’ll be in tomorrow for the radio show, besides, this will give some good things to report about when I do it tomorrow.” Cecil shouted, urgently, fearfully and the growling stopped. There were a few grunts and then silence settled into the radio station once more.

Carlos had already noticed the sign on the men’s bathroom and edged closer to it desperately. He fiddled with the door and it opened so he quickly darted in and into one of the cubicles without looking around at all. Cecil followed after him and Carlos could hear him cooing to something. He assumed that a station pet had followed him into the bathroom or something of the like.

 

What he heard next was almost a surface-rocking roar and after finishing up, he threw the door open to see Cecil waving a plush mouse on a stick at some sort of animal that seemed to be levitating in mid-air next to the sinks. It was a monstrous being with spine ridges and sharp claws on each paw that didn’t ever seem to go in. Carlos wasn’t sure what the creature was until a fit of sneezing overcame him.

“That’s a cat.” Carlos stated, holding on to the cubicle door for support and to quickly grab if the cat did happen to move towards him. Cecil sensed his fear.

“Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless, just poisonous. He can’t move so if you really do want to avoid him, it’s not a challenge. I’ll turn the CCTV off so you can wash up.” Cecil informed him and then left the room so that Carlos could wash. Instead of doing so, however, Carlos appeared to scoot around the cat while observing it. Science over hygiene, well, science over anything, first and foremost.

He picked up the stick with the toy mouse on it and began to wave it near the cat. The cat purred and it seemed as if the walls were purring with it. It swiped at the mouse, caught it and began to tear out the stuffing. Carlos took it as his call to leave the cat alone. He stripped, scrubbed up in a breakneck speed, put some fresh clothes on along with his lab-coat (for science!) and sprinted out of the bathroom to meet Cecil.

“Done?” Cecil asked as he walked out. He was sitting on one of the cushioned chairs in the lobby reading through a set of notes which Carlos assumed was the script for the next radio show.

“The…cat?” Carlos asked hesitantly. He wanted to know as much as possible about the mysterious being who stayed put and didn’t even bat an eyelid or grace him with even a glance as he washed himself. Carlos wanted to touch it but he had already wasted enough of his life in a square cell, he didn’t want to end it prematurely without making at least one successful discovery. Cecil got up and they began walking out of the radio station, down the hill and towards the town hall.

“His name is Khoshekh, and he, kind of well…sorta just appeared there. We took him in, since he cannot move and we always leave things well in his reach. If he wasn’t poisonous he’d be a lovely thing to pet since I suppose you wouldn’t have to bend down at all. I’ve never been one for cats, but he’s made me see them in a different light. Then again, you don’t particularly like them, do you?” Cecil asked as they continued walking, informing them that they only had a short walk until they reached the town hall.

“I like them, I’m just allergic to them. But he, he is fascinating. If the rest of the town is like this and you, I think I’m really going to enjoy it here. There’s a lot for me to investigate and I’ll finally be able to get into the swing of things after twenty years only being able to do pitiful scientific experiments in a limited situation.” Carlos replied as the town hall began to peak over the horizon.

It wasn’t a particularly grand building in terms of size but it was beautifully decorated. The steps leading up to the entrance had small stone statues of various different bugs, from spiders to bees and an earthworm, which Carlos was surprised at. He enjoyed Night Vale’s different ‘tastes’ so to speak and was quite interested to see those who would be inside and whether they were as eccentric as his new ‘friend’ Cecil.

“Why couldn’t you do much science for that long? 20 years seems an awfully long time.” Cecil asked, innocently as they reached the grand oak doors of the building. Carlos started instantly as his mind went into overdrive to formulate a lie.

“Uh, uh, um, well, the thing I, I suppose, it’s pretty obvious that I’ve never had a lot of money, how can you expect me to do science with no money nor job? The company I previously worked for, well, uh, it w-went under after blowing too much money on useless experiments that never worked!” Carlos finally spat out after much stuttering. He’d have to work on his lying, but then again, lying was most definitely not his forte. He was a man of science, a man of facts and truth. Falsities didn’t slot in anywhere.

Luckily, Cecil dropped the subject as they both approached the front desk and for another time, Carlos was stunned. A hopefully human thing was standing behind it sorting out forms. It was wearing black garments head to toe, with a balaclava covering its face. Carlos stood back a little and edged ever so lightly closer to Cecil who seemed completely fine with the threatening being that stood in front of the both of them.

“Oh, are the Sheriff’s secret police running this meeting?” Cecil enquired, to which the masked ‘human’ nodded. He held out a clipboard and Cecil signed his name before handing it to Carlos who noticed that his first name had been quickly scrawled in at the bottom next to a dotted line. He stared at it somewhat bemused.

“I texted them.” Cecil informed the scientist.

“Oh.”

Carlos signed the paper and the both of them walked into the room together, Cecil mindlessly chattering on about the restaurants and other social places in Night Vale. Places to avoid, according to Carlos as he had always got into a spot of bother as those particular types of venues. He zoned out and followed the path to the empty seats before Cecil selected two of them to sit at. He had awkwardly picked the front row, right in front of the podium with a shoddily wired microphone. Carlos quickly checked behind him to see if anyone shorter was sitting behind him, but he remained fixated at the crowd growing, and they, with him.

At the back sat a small, old woman perched on some incredibly tall creature’s lap, with her fine grey hair scraped back into a wispy bun. She pushed up her glasses and glared at Carlos. He moved his gaze from her quickly. In front, sat a family. Mother, father and a very hairy hand. The mother referred to the hand as Megan quite lovingly. Some scouts, a few people dressed in a uniform that specifically said NVCR (“those are interns,” Cecil later informed him) and quite a few members of the Sheriff’s secret police. Carlos turned around as a middle-aged woman took the podium in front of them and began to speak about some new laws.

After the meeting was over, Carlos surprisingly found himself walking out with a home and a laboratory along with some assistants that he had awkwardly met before they had scurried off to the laboratory, seemingly happy that they had a ‘qualified’ scientist working alongside them and to guide them. On the bright side, Carlos did have things he wanted to investigate and on mentioning that to Cecil, he had also gained another assistant for journalistic purposes.

As Cecil tugged his hand for him to get up, the both of them were swamped by members of the community. A couple of interns furiously shook his hand to which Carlos nervously greeted them as they scurried off. A man named Teddy Williams introduced himself as the owner of the fun complex that sits just on the outskirts of the town and invited him to play bowling with his ‘science friends.’ 

Telly introduced himself as the barber of Night Vale. Carlos was relieved as his hair was getting a bit too long again and after hearing about how wheat (he assumed Night Vale must be full of those who could not digest gluten, another investigation for him to commit to) was banned along with writing utensils, he wasn’t sure anything ‘normal’ existed in this town.

“Yeah, I need a bit of a haircut, actually. Considering dying over these grey pieces of hair, actually.” Carlos mumbled to which Cecil cut in with a furious objection.

“Your hair is fine, it does not need to be touched, especially by his untrained and cursed hands!” He exclaimed before storming off. The absence of Cecil in the space revealed the same angry woman glaring at him from afar. He apologised to Telly and chased after Cecil who had headed out of the hall.

“Hey, Cecil, wait. I want to ask you something.” Carlos shouted as he finally caught up with Cecil after nearly breaking into a full-out sprint. Cecil’s long legs didn’t help the situation when he was walking off in a fast-paced speed walk. He did slow when Carlos ran beside him and the two of them began to walk out together.

“First of all, thank you. I’ve never experienced any kindness like that towards me in my life, well, unless it has an ulterior motive. Hopefully you don’t have one that isn’t too unreasonable, you don’t want me to take the blame for something, for example. I’m really, really excited about doing science and I have an even bigger reason to stay now.” Carlos paused.

“What was the name of that woman? The elderly lady with the tall beings around her. She didn’t seem very happy with me.” He gave Cecil a quick glance and then stopped in his tracks again as he saw the mysterious woman watching them out of Cecil’s line of sight.

“Oh, she’s Old Woman Josie. She’s lovely, loves to bake things and help others out. Are you sure she was glaring at you? She waved at me.” Cecil spoke of her in such high spirits that Carlos wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same person. He glanced over to the woman and she nodded, confirming her identity. Carlos swallowed and returned to Cecil so that his glance wouldn’t alert Cecil to her presence. Cecil had leaned in closer and dropped his voice.

“She’s a little nuts though. Believes in angels!” He whispered and laughed. Carlos couldn’t help but grin in return, Cecil had such a lovely little laugh was a thought that crossed his mind. The other part of his mind chastised him, reminded him that they had only just met and perhaps his feelings were due to the idea of someone being nice to him, the same with Sam and Dylan. The other part responded too, telling him that he had it bad for Cecil.

“-coffee with me sometime?” Carlos heard Cecil say and he snapped out of his mindless debate with himself.

“Huh?” Carlos replied, perhaps a little too ignorantly. Cecil seemed taken aback, hurt, almost, but pressed on with just slightly dimmed enthusiasm.

“I wondered if you wanted to get coffee with me sometime. I want to get to know you and perhaps I could help you out some more with a few things. I think we could at least be solid friends and I really would like to talk to you. Maybe convince you that your hair is wonderful, maybe.” Cecil finished with an uneasy joke just as Josie seemed to walk over quicker than any elderly lady should walk. Carlos was even more intimidated than before.

“Carlos! You are a scientist, yes? Follow me.” Josie beckoned and Carlos sheepishly followed. Cecil slouched against the wall, waiting for his friend and probably for his answer. He twiddled his thumbs, most likely out of nerves rather than boredom.

Josie walked with Carlos silently down the corridor, shooting him some pointed looks. If she could reach him, Carlos imagined that she would quite gladly grasp him around the collar and throw him against the wall. Once the two of them were out of the sight and sound of Cecil, Josie corned the poor scientist into a corner and as she spoke, she poked him in the chest, hard a few times.

“How dare you have the audacity to appear in this town! How dare you pick it as your place to come to after your sentence! Do you think I wouldn’t know the reason why half of the older generation in this town went insane? That I wouldn’t recognise you? Keep away from Cecil, you’ve done enough harm already. He will never be your boyfriend. He just gets infatuated with scientists, probably because they taught him all different things while administering that poisonous, destructive rubbish all for your selfish desires!”

“It wasn’t me.” Carlos’ face became a field of emotionless torment as he bluntly stated his claim – the truth. 

“I’ll tell him the truth. He wants revenge on the people who killed his parents.” Josie retaliated and if it were possible (could be in Night Vale, who knows), her ears would be pouring out black smoke. That was how angry she looked and Carlos could feel a hint of fear. He brushed past her, his lab coat flaring out behind him.

“He’s not that kind of person.” Carlos said as a parting shot, leaving a stunned but furious Josie.

The walk back was only a few minutes but Carlos was in between fainting and vomiting. He wanted to escape his past and yet it had followed him like a lingering bad smell. He had known Cecil a day and yet he didn’t want to hurt him and wanted to protect him from the false lies that Josie and the rest of the US had been fed. Of course, this could only be the desire to protect his image but he knew that it was something more than that. He wanted to pry, yet he did not, he wanted to ask Cecil about the past, yet he wanted to bury it all as deep as the Earth’s core.

Cecil perked up on Carlos’ return and Carlos was forced to as well. Cecil shot him a look as if to say ‘well?’ and Carlos sighed. He wanted to say yes, but he could feel Josie hanging over him and gave a rehearsed rejection that he often used when he frequented bars and nightclubs full of sleazy men.

“I’m sorry Cecil, I need to get my head around things first.” He said solemnly and Cecil bowed his head for a few seconds. He looked up with a smile and a nod and began walking again.

“Okay, I understand. Some other time would be very nice. What did Josie want?” Cecil asked, quickly changing the subject.

Oh, uh, um, her salt keeps disappearing. Said I’d look into it for her.” Carlos quickly lied and walked out ahead of Cecil, swiped the keys of the laboratory off the main desk and left.

Later that night, after Carlos had settled into his new room and got cosy on his new mattress (they didn’t have a bed, not that Carlos minded), he took a few minutes to book an appointment to Telly’s hair salon after pieces of hair had flicked into his face more than a few times as he was admiring the new science equipment given to him. He had recognised some things left behind by Fitzgerald’s company but other things were incredibly high-tech. He was impressed.

Of course, Carlos’ mind couldn’t help to return to Cecil as it had done for pretty much 59 out of 60 minutes in an hour since he had left his side. He couldn’t shake Cecil’s disappointment, Josie’s warning and the absolute sheer happiness when Carlos had complimented him. A more invasive image had shoved its way in too and that was of a fifteen year old Cecil looking into a bloodstained mirror, clutching onto a purple hairbrush so tightly that it dug into his hand, leaving pin prick marks.

The next day, Carlos got his hair cut. He listened to Cecil’s hate-fuelled rant towards Telly for cutting his hair and couldn’t help but laugh. He left the grey bits in. Bought Josie some new table salt because she had genuinely asked about the problem in the meeting. Set up the new mobile phone that came with the laboratory and saved Cecil’s number. He went back and deleted the star by Cecil’s name, marking him special. Carlos vowed that he would never call Cecil for personal reasons no matter how much Cecil hinted over the radio, or left voice messages. He only dialled that number when science happened, because that was all Cecil was. A stepping stone for him to get back into science.

Even so, Carlos’ phone ended up saving at least a draft a day of a text he wanted so desperately to send to Cecil. Mainly at night, when he was emotional, after a stressful day or when his body felt the deprivation of sex the most.

_I’m still up for coffee if you are._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: paperbackbunny.tumblr.com  
> personal tumblr: uncreativerabbit.tumblr.com
> 
> PS: I'm currently revamping my writing tumblr and i may post an alternate scene that was going to go in this chapter (more comedy than serious). thanks for bearing with me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later after becoming a resident of Night Vale along with a near-death experience stops Carlos from being able to hold back his feelings anymore. He only hopes that fate is on his side, as he'd rather not hear Cecil sob like that again.

Time was of the essence to existence. Time was of the essence to Carlos’ existence in Night Vale. It seemed that one brief clap of hands, a year had passed. And goodness, he thought to himself, what an eventful year it had been. At the present time, one year later, he was perched on a stool wearing the same lab coat (although fret not, it had been washed), goggles resting over his own glasses in a bizarre fashion, diluting an unidentified chemical found in Mission Grove Park with water. Around him scurried his assistants wrapped up in their own experiments. The House That Did Not Exist seemed to be the most popular phenomenon within the group of scientists.

However, apart from the occasional squeak of a shoe, it was utterly silent in the laboratory. Carlos’ orders, after all. In the background, cranked up to an almost unbearable volume was the Night Vale Community Radio show. Cecil’s honey voice languidly spoke about the current traffic outside and although nobody was listening to his actual words, because who really drove that much in Night Vale, Carlos enjoyed the sound immensely. It was as close as he could get to his beloved.

“He’s got it bad.” A tall, slightly plump dark-skinned woman whispered to another scientist. She was attempting to tame her hair into a controlled environment to have a go at Carlos’ experiment.

“Shut up Rochelle.” Carlos bit back at her and she grinned to herself and carried on with what she was doing for the day, silently.

Rochelle was the assistant that Carlos was closest to. She knew what the ‘deal’ was, as she put it, with the head scientist and his love for Cecil and surprisingly she not only believed him but the only words she could speak of him was kind and loving. The two of them became fast friends after an unfortunate event involving a bit of a low night for Carlos.

About two months into his Night Vale residence Carlos one night had sat alone in the lab, just gazing out of the window. Rochelle had walked in after popping to a store to pick up a few groceries since she tended to forget to eat when science had poked its fascinating head into her brain and she was ravenous after a full thirty-two hours without food. She thought he was staring at nothing initially but as she turned, she saw him gazing at Cecil who was walking out of the coffee shop opposite the laboratory with a beverage and a scout next to him. Cecil was laughing and joking as the both of them walked home.

“His fashion sense is impeccable. One minute he’s dressed in leggings and a jumper, and the next he’s in a full-on suit. I’d love to have a look in his wardrobe.” Rochelle quipped, mockingly and Carlos started. He turned up and looked at her, wordlessly.

“Ask him out on a date. He’ll say yes. I know you want to, too.”

“I, I can’t.” Carlos stuttered, begrudgingly. Rochelle pulled up a seat next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He politely shifted away but turned to face her. The words tumbled out of his mouth and he told her everything from the scholarship to the experiments, from Dylan to jail and then about Josie and her threat. Well, almost everything. He left out his suspicions about Cecil being the orphaned teenage boy due to his drug.

“I don’t want to hurt him. I can’t. It’ll never happen.” Carlos finished nervously, chewing his thumb. He swivelled his chair away from Rochelle and was surprised when she leant in closer to him.

“So that was you. Ok. I’ll take your secret to the grave with me. Let me work on Josie though. I have a feeling we can sway her. I think she just has an emotional attachment to him. Perhaps as if she’s another mother.”

Rochelle got up that night, returned to her room and for the rest of the time she knew Carlos, she never questioned him about his past. He was thankful to her. None of the other scientists seemed to recognise him at all. Then again, they were all younger than his prison sentence so they may not have had a reason to know. All he was to them was ‘Carlos the Scientist,’ although they rarely referred to him by name.

Carlos had tiptoed around Cecil for the past year. While his fingers almost wobbled multiple times over the digits of his phone number, when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was turned on, when he was alone, he resisted the urge. Cecil phoned every once in a while to ask about his experiments and try his luck in obtaining a date. Carlos’ voice stuttered every time.

The first time his heart properly waivered was during the terrible sandstorm that switched the Voice of Night Vale with the mysterious host from Desert Bluffs. As he, who called himself Kevin rummaged through Cecil’s desk and drawers, he found a guide that he embarrassingly read out on the air and it was enough to make Carlos flush and dash into the nearest private room, cringing for Cecil in many ways, his heart beating in others. ‘How to seduce a scientist,’ it was called, and it was found next to a collection of astronomy books and a pamphlet titled ‘Bizarre Phenomenon occurrences.’ 

He almost caved about eight months in. Carlos had just had his dealing with the mysterious Man in the Tan Jacket (which thoroughly creeped him out) and after quizzing Cecil and then forgetting what they were speaking about, Cecil tried again. Carlos, delusional from whatever Night Vale had cast onto him, had almost said yes, live, on air. He quickly rebutted it, giving him another one of his shitty reasons (that Cecil mournfully accepted), but after that, it was never ever dropped.

It seemed that everyone in Night Vale wanted the both of them together, but the mother didn’t. Carlos received a furious encounter after that incident as he innocently picked up dinner in the Arby’s. Then again, furious initially, she seemed to soften once the both of them took their seats and had been chatting for a bit. Perhaps it was because Carlos bought her replacement salt when the angels stole it. Perhaps it was because Carlos had paid for her meal at Arby’s. But perhaps, and, most likely, she wanted Cecil to be happy. Carlos hoped this, and as they parted, she, for the first time since he arrived in the town, smiled at him.

He managed to squash the feelings inside of him. However, it only took a few more months before they all came roaring back up inside of him and inevitably spilled out. Carlos had heard about the suspicious underground town that lived under lane five of the bowling complex and had been insanely curious about the discovery. He knew that there was danger, there was always danger with science, and coupled with Night Vale made it on par with some sort of fictional mission, but deep inside, Carlos was an adventurer. He was an inventor, a discoverer, an adventurer. He was a scientist.

After tuning out of the first portion of Cecil’s show, he went to investigate Teddy’s discovery at the lanes. He highly doubted there would be much danger involved in doing so. They were aggressive but they were tiny, Carlos could probably threaten to step on them if they caused any harm. He had packed a few small weapons just in case, and a multitude of small containers to use as prisons. He didn’t plan to keep them for long, he just wanted to take a few pictures and notes (ketchup on stone was surprisingly useful in a town where writing utensils are banned).

Oh, how Carlos was wrong. He bravely charged into the town, only to underestimate the power of the missiles they fired at him. He was taken aback, watching the blood well through his chest. He gripped it with his hand, only for the blood to pool through his fingers and drip to the floor. With his mind swaying out of consciousness, Carlos fell to the floor, and for a second, he thought he was looking death in the eyes, closing his as the residents of Night Vale circled around him to help. For a second, he even thought he saw kind, old eyes fish through a bag to find some sort of home brewed, angelic remedy.

Carlos could feel himself being pulled about, thrown in the air and landing on something sharp and potentially bony. The pain shot through his chest, but his heart was feeling another pain. Witnessing this from his booth was Cecil, mourning the loss of the man he had developed a crush on, quietly sobbing and choking on his words. Carlos attempted to grit his teeth, he must pull through this! He chanted to himself, over and over. Hearing Cecil cry was almost unbearable. He couldn’t listen, even though his secret had not come out, he had made Cecil cry anyway. He had broken his promise to himself and to Josie, that he would never hurt him.

He felt exposed, cold air hitting his chest. Then the warm tightness of something being wrapped around him. He could hear muffled chattering, although he had no idea what they were saying. He heard a deep voice remarking ‘poor lad’ and another, slightly higher but probably male voice saying ‘yeah, they’re both denying what they truly feel. Maybe this will give him a kick up the ass. He keeps telling Cecil to stop crying. I think they’d be good together, as he does love his scientists.’

Carlos’ eyes flew open to bright light and Teddy standing over him with a roll of gauze. Carlos seemed to be laying in the staff room, on the aptly coloured red sofa. Teddy taped up the gauze wrapped around Carlos and stood back, noticing he was awake. Carlos gingerly tried to sit up and winced, but he felt a pair of strong hands support his back. Rochelle was behind him, holding him up. She passed him his glasses and Carlos was surprised to find that they weren’t broken at all. It was pretty remarkable, he could feel himself recovering already. As he stood with the help, Teddy was in the doorway, holding out his lab coat for him to slip into. His shirt was completely sullied with blood and Carlos spotted it in the trashcan, ripped.

“I brought the car, I’ll take him home.” Rochelle said to Teddy as Carlos put his arm around her shoulder for support. As he staggered out of the staff room, some people were waiting outside, while others were surrounding what appeared to be a dead body. The apache tracker was on the floor, sprawled out, his headdress next to him.

“He may have been a racist embarrassment, but he saved your life, Carlos” spoke Josie, quietly and Carlos acknowledged her and the body with a sad but very grateful smile. She walked away from the tracker for just a second to give Carlos a vial with some sort of healing salts in. As he was slightly slumped, she was tall enough to reach into his ear.

“I may not like you for what you have done, but I don’t want to see anyone dying to try and explain Night Vale. Leave it be, Carlos. You should learn that tampering with this place does no good. I thought you would have learned your lesson.” She said softly, and Carlos sighed. His frantic explaining to her many months ago seemed to be forgotten or not believed. At least she wasn’t completely and utterly blazing mad at him.

_‘We now bring you to a p-p-pre-recorded public announcement service!’_

Everyone cast their eyes onto the speaker, Carlos looked down in shame as Josie shot him a look. Rochelle couldn’t help but glare at the old lady and quickly moved Carlos out of the building as the rest of them circled back around the apache tracker’s body. Only Teddy moved to hold the door open for them as a perkier, cheerful Cecil came on, probably from the past, when he knew that Carlos was for sure, alive, and not laying there bloodied in a bowling alley.

The car ride was silent apart from the radio that Carlos insisted to have on. After the announcement cut out, an ecstatic Cecil popped on, cheering about Carlos’ quick recovery. Carlos, who was slumped in the front seat next to the driver, Rochelle, couldn’t hide his grin at how happy he sounded. Rochelle smiled back but inside, she knew that something was going to happen soon. Near-death experiences usually bring out the craziest of emotions.

‘He’s okay!’ Celebrated the happy voice on the radio, and Carlos nodded along. Rochelle, while focusing on the road, decided to be the kick up the ass that Carlos needed. He couldn’t let, in her words, ‘that past it bitch’ stop the both of them from getting together. They pulled up in the parking area near the laboratory and as they got out, Rochelle braced herself for confrontation.

Carlos’ recovery was miraculous. About four steps away from the car, Carlos could find himself walking again. It was a slow, unsteady walk but he did not need to be supported. He even managed to hold the door open for Rochelle. As he walked in, he through the laboratory and upstairs, into the communal staff room and kitchen, fishing through a clear plastic box labelled ‘Carlos’ for a shirt as Rochelle leant against the door frame with her arms folded.

“Are you going to see him?” She quizzed Carlos as he put on the shirt, tucking the lab coat away to be washed as there were still faint hints of blood on it.

“No. Why would I?” was the response she received and it sounded dejected. She was not happy and began to fight against Carlos’ reasoning.

“Why let her stop you, Carlos?”

“What do you know!?”

Carlos spun around on his heel and started ranting at Rochelle. He was so conflicted, so confused inside and he truly didn’t know what to do. It had been a year since that knock on his window, it had been a year since Josie pinned him aside and told him not to go near him under any circumstances. It had been forty years of life for him that he had never experienced a loving, romantic, monogamous relationship and it was half over. Rochelle had a point, he’d spent his whole life, pretty much half of the life he was going to get on this Earth (providing no more near death experiences occurred) bending over backwards for someone else. 

He had to continue though, for the sake of Cecil’s sanity. Any person with a remote knowledge of psychology could tell that Cecil was the type to hold it together and adopt the typical British saying of ‘keep calm and carry on,’ and perhaps his time in Europe formed that. He knew Cecil could topple over the edge at the confession that the guy he’s infatuated with (because it was hardly love when they had spoken less than 300 words to each other in a year) could have potentially killed his family with a half-finished drug. He wouldn’t believe that Carlos didn’t mean to test it.

“-It’s a ridiculous idea and I can’t. I absolutely cannot risk hurting him!” Carlos finished just as Rochelle handed him his phone. It was on, unlocked and on a text message screen. Carlos could read Cecil’s name and assumed that he had sent him a text to see if he was okay. What he didn’t expect was seeing that the last text was a green bubble, meaning it was sent by him.

_‘Cecil, I want to see you. Please meet me at the Arby’s. I’m leaving now.’_

“Rochelle, what the fuck have you done?” Carlos demanded but Rochelle was already out of the room, leaving Carlos’ car keys. He sighed and grabbed them off the counter. He had already decided he had no choice other than to meet Cecil, especially since he could hear him excitedly leaving over the air, setting up the weather.

In the short car journey there, he had considered turning back about seven times. In the end, his heart took control and Carlos just couldn’t bear to stand Cecil up. Especially after the emotional rollercoaster of today. He still didn’t dare look anywhere apart from ahead though, fearing Josie’s judgemental look dooming him. As he pulled into the Arby’s parking lot, he noticed it was empty so he jumped out of the car and walked around for a bit, pacing, trying to figure out what he was going to say to him.

Carlos saw a car pull into the Arby’s and he quickly jumped onto the boot of his car, sitting and making himself seem nonchalant. They got out of the car and went into the Arby’s, so Carlos took the time to observe the sky around him. The sun had gone down and there were mysterious lights floating so calmly in the air above him. It relaxed him and he drifted off into a daydream, thinking about what would happen if, by some minor miracle, it did work out between them.

He didn’t notice Cecil pull up next to him until he heard the car door shut. Cecil approached him in his work uniform, his thick, square glasses, shirt, black jeans and purple tie. He stood hesitantly at the foot of the car while Carlos looked down at him and smiled nervously at the radio host. He could hear the weather playing in the background.

“W-what do you need me for? What scientific discovery is there to behold?” Cecil spluttered and Carlos couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning his head in his hand and looking dreamily up at the lights.

“Nothing. I just needed to see you, is all. Come up here.” Carlos responded, without even looking at Cecil. Cecil obliged and sat next to Carlos nervously. He felt the same as Cecil, no matter how composed and happy he appeared to be.

“The lights are beautiful, aren’t they. I suppose I used to think that time was wrong in Night Vale, the sun wasn’t setting right. I used to be scared that malevolent forces were in play. I was wrong. This place is pure, this place is innocent, undamaged by whatever everyone else wants and expects a place to be. And, in its own way, it’s perfect. It’s pure, and innocent, with feelings that are nothing more than the truth and do not deserve to be ignored or compromised.”

Carlos turned to Cecil and cupped his face, gazing into his eyes. He thought about how beautiful his eyes are, how much he wanted to take Cecil home with him and have him for the night, have him forever. He thought about how much he had hurt him and how he never wanted to do that again. He didn’t want to hear him cry again. Carlos didn’t allow the hurdles ahead of them to pass through his mind at all, and just continued to look.

“Just like you, Cecil.”

“Carlos…” Cecil sighed and grabbed his hand, the one on his face gently, rubbing it soothingly.

Carlos went to lean in for a kiss and groaned, his wound not fully healed. Cecil’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, spluttering out a train of words that could not be deciphered by anyone apart from the speaker himself. Once he had calmed down, the both of them locked eyes again and Cecil took it upon himself to lean in for another kiss.

It was tender and sweet, both of them holding back, wanting to take things slow. They pulled back grinning and blushing before turning to watch the lights in the sky. Carlos put his hand on Cecil’s knee to partly steady himself and Cecil took it as a romantic gesture, leaning his head on Carlos’ shoulder and gently wrapping one arm around his waist, as if to hold him up. They both sat there silently for a while, just taking in the atmosphere and each other’s presence.

After a while, Carlos jumped up and began to rummage through his car for something he had kept in there for scientific purposes. He thought it would be better if Cecil had it and it could also serve as an apology as well as a gift to signal the start of a relationship, hopefully. Cecil was curious and although he did not get off the car, he peered down at Carlos and enquired about what he was doing.

“Carlos, are you ok?”

Carlos emerged holding a red velvet box and handed it to Cecil. He opened it to find a simple watch staring back at him. A brown, leather strap, a white clock face and gold interior all spoke simplicity, something Cecil generally hated but he found it beautiful. He looked up and beamed at Carlos, holding the box as if it was something dainty and treasured.

“I got it fixed up. It’s the one true timepiece in Night Vale. I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.” Cecil smiled and shut the box gently, he would put it on another time and never take it off. He hopped off the car and gave Carlos a simple kiss on the cheek before getting back into his car, placing the watch next to him.

“I, I better go…the weather’s stopping. Thank you so much Carlos, we’ll see each other again soon?” He asked, hopefully.

“I’ll text you. Enjoy your show. I am sorry for being so slow in this, by the way.” Carlos confessed, and Cecil grinned as he drove out of the parking lot.

On the way home, Carlos couldn’t hold back his excitement. He was grinning like an idiot and having the radio on probably didn’t help. Cecil was spilling the details, gory and all about their date, wishing the radio could have sight so that he could show off his new watch, although he would post a picture later on tumblr. As Carlos pulled into the laboratory, he was greeted by a half amused Rochelle at the front entrance who had obviously been listening to the show.

“You sappy git.” She playfully chided, punching him on the arm lightly.

Carlos couldn’t stop grinning, he walked over to her and leant against the wall, gazing up at the sky, reflecting on the intimate moment the both of them had shared. He sighed, and looked down at his phone, adding a heart emoticon next to Cecil’s name and setting him on speed dial. He assumed this was what love was and he honestly felt that this time, he would get to experience it wholly and truly. 

Carlos hoped the stars were on his side, not taunting him with a romantic, twinkling display in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i the only one who pictured carlos victoriously standing on a desk in the 'inventor, adventurer, scientist bit'  
> yep  
> ok
> 
> also happy birthday to meeee i'm 19  
> i still look like a fifteen year old
> 
> also sorry this took ages exams and stuff. i also have a job which is cool  
> (and a bit of a crush on a guy there but boohoo that's not gonna happen)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. I'm aiming to get this updated every three weeks to a month, I'm sorry in advance if I'm late on anything. If you like my writing, please check out my writing blog. It's pretty empty at the moment but I'm working on more fanfiction and original pieces. Reviews and typo-spotting is much appreciated since this hasn't been beta'd. Hoping you all have a lovely day!
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> paperbackbunny.tumblr.com


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